


The Reason

by xHookedonKillianx



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-10-31 04:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 121,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHookedonKillianx/pseuds/xHookedonKillianx
Summary: The three of them share a laugh before they all look to Emma. She has yet to comment on the new addition because she isn’t sure what to say. She usually doesn’t like change, they have a good thing going there, just the four of them. Plus, they all know him and she doesn’t, but she trusts their judgement, and she’s sure any brother of Liam can’t be all that bad.So, with a shrug and a smile she says, “Welcome to Storybrooke, Killian Jones.”





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Here I go again! I hope you all enjoy it :) Double line breaks mean change of POV
> 
> Special thanks to @yeahiliketheredleatherjacket who helped me look less of an idiot. <3

****

**Chapter One**

Emma sits on her balcony sipping on hot cocoa as she looks down at the street below. It’s just after ten in the morning and Storybrooke is awake while she’s still blinking the sleep from her eyes. It's funny, she’s lived in Storybrooke for three years now and she’s still not use to how _early_ the town wakes up, or maybe it’s just her.

When she was a young girl and moving from home to home, sleep was something that didn’t come easily; she always had to watch her back, so maybe she’s still making up for lost time.

Moving her gaze back out to her view of the water, she smiles. Her adoptive mother, Ruth, had owned the building for as long as she could remember and when she passed four years ago, she left it to her and her brother, David, in her will, so once the renters were gone they decided to leave Boston and move in. It consists of three apartments and when they moved in she insisted on having the one on the top floor because of the view.

Of course, David and his wife, Mary Margaret, didn’t mind. They were newlyweds after all, and she remembers how her brother smirked about not keeping his sister up with all the “thumping”.

Emma _thumped_ him herself after he said that.

Her and David had met in high school; she was a freshman and he a sophomore. She was late to school because the kids in her group home thought it would be funny to turn off her alarm, and he was there when she tried to sneak in unnoticed. When the principal walked up to them and asked what was going on, she expected David to dime her out, but instead he told the principal she was with him and then helped her get into class without anyone noticing.

Since that day, they’ve been close and when she ran away from her group home, it was to David’s house and on her fifteenth birthday, Ruth adopted her. She remembers how she locked herself in the bathroom because she couldn’t hold back her tears of joy. It may have taken longer than most, but she was finally a part of a family.

On that day she vowed to make Ruth proud and would stop cutting school and be the best daughter anyone could ask for.

Then everything _else_ happened…

A loud beeping noise breaks her out of her dark thoughts and she looks down to see it’s her phone, a reminder going off about their ‘building meeting’.

When the three of them moved in, they didn’t have much furniture and none of their jobs paid enough at the time for them to buy everything that they needed so Mary Margaret suggested they pool their money and split everything from utilities to food. There’s a fridge in the second-floor hall, because Mary Margaret is the one that cooks, with some cabinets they fill each week, and each month they meet to sort out the bills.

Years later, they all are more stable, can afford things on their own, but keep it the same because it’s just how they do things and when they rented out the first-floor to Liam Jones, he was all too willing to comply.

Taking one last sip of her hot cocoa, she picks her phone up and climbs back into her apartment to head downstairs. When she finally gets there, the three of them are already waiting. She’s not surprised, she’s usually always late, mostly because she forgets—hence the phone alarm—and they know it.

“Whose great idea was it to meet this early?” she grumbles as she sits down on the bottom step.

“It’s ten thirty,” Liam responds and when she raises her eyebrow at him, he shakes his head with a smile.

He has kind eyes and soft curls on top of his head. Emma likes to call him her big teddy bear and he claims to hate it, but she knows he secretly loves it.

Her sister-in-law turns to her and says, “I thought Walsh was—”

“Nope,” Emma says with a shake of her head.

“Oh,” Mary Margaret gasps. “Is that over?”

“Completely.”

David rolls his eyes while Mary Margaret’s shoulders sag, but Emma ignores them. It’s no surprise that she doesn’t do the “relationship” thing. At twenty-eight, she doesn’t want to waste her years being committed to someone who’s just going to end up leaving in the end, so she does it first.

It’s not like Walsh was some big love affair. They had dated for two months and she told him from the beginning how it was, but then he saw her out to lunch with Liam and accused her of _cheating_ on him. She ended it right then and there.

But while her brother has resigned himself to the fact that’s how she is, her fairy-tale loving sister-in-law still has _hope_.

_“Sometimes you just need a push in the right direction,” Mary Margaret says with a smile._

_Emma grins. “Or a kick to the head.”_

“I asked you all here…,” Liam starts with a sigh. “…because I wanted to inform you all... well, something has happened and there was favor…”

He stands in the middle of the hall with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. If he didn’t look so upset, Emma would crack a joke that he’s not at work, he can ease up with captain stance.

“Is everything okay?” Mary Margaret asks, her voice laced with concern.

Sighing, Liam nods, “Aye. Last night I was speaking with Killian and he doesn’t sound well.”

“Is he okay?” David asks, his voice dripping with unease. “I just spoke with him two days ago and he seemed alright.”

Emma looks over at her brother to see the distress clear on his face. He and Killian met the summer after David’s first year in college. After breaking up with his girlfriend, he decided to spend the summer abroad. She remembers how every time they talked, all he did was tell her about his new friend.

She often jokes that they have the bromance of the century.

Liam nods, “He’s well. It’s just… I think I may have _finally_ convinced him that he should leave London.”

David stands up straight at this while Mary Margaret’s eyes go wide as she asks, “He’s coming to visit?”

“Well that’s why I called you all here,” he lifts his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Would any of you object to Killian moving in with me? He would pay his way, of course, I just… I would feel better with my little brother being closer. This way I could keep an eye on him.”

“Seriously?” David chuckles. “I’ve been trying to get Killian to come here for _years_. Do you think he’ll actually do it?”

“He doesn’t really have any reason not to. I feel Storybrooke will be good for him, he’s all alone there and I fear what it may be doing to him.”

“Yes!” Mary Margaret squeals. “I haven’t seen him since we went to London right before you moved in. Oh, this will be fantastic!”

The three of them share a laugh before they all look to Emma. She has yet to comment on the new addition because she isn’t sure what to say. She usually doesn’t like change, they have a good thing going there, just the four of them. Plus, they all know Killian and she doesn’t, but she trusts their judgement and she’s sure any brother of Liam can’t be all that bad.

So with a shrug and a smile she says, “Welcome to Storybrooke, Killian Jones.”

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

Killian Jones has never known an easy life. At the age of ten, his father abandoned him and Liam at an orphanage never to be seen or heard from again, and he doesn’t even remember his mother. Though his brother did the best that he could at raising him, they had had their share of troubles.

They were basically slaves to a filthy old man when they were in the orphanage until Liam aged out and took them away. In that moment, he cleaned up his act, told himself they had a fresh new start and began on his journey to become the man he always wanted to be.

Then the fire happened.

His gaze moves to his left hand, the scarring and bubbled flesh almost shining in the light. The doctors told him that he was lucky he didn’t lose it, but Liam wasn’t so lucky.

He was in a medically induced coma for a week due to his injuries and Killian spiraled out of control for fear that he might lose him.

And that was when he met Milah.

She was older and beautiful and made him see the world for the rotten place that it is. He would have given her anything she asked for; he loved her and wanted to be with her always… then like everything in his life, it turned to complete ash.

_“Thank you for flying with us today, we hope you enjoyed your flight._ ”

Killian breaks outs of his thoughts and looks down the aisle of the plane. After a month of pleading from Liam, he finally decided to say goodbye to London and move to the States to be with his brother. There was nothing there for him… not anymore.

He nods to the kindly old woman that he shared space with and helps her with her carry-on from the overhead bin. She thanks him with a pat on the arm and tells him what a good man he is.

_If only that were true._

Pulling the strap over his shoulder, he waits to exit the plane with everyone else and once he steps into the airport, he lets out a sigh of relief. It’s funny, he’s not yet made it to his new flat, but the second the plane touched down, the weight that he’s been carrying on his shoulders seems to have lightened. Though there is still an ache in his chest, the sight of Liam waiting for him makes him feel something other than despair for the first time in months.

“Brother,” Liam breathes out with a large smile.

Before he can respond, Liam pulls him forward and Killian’s eyes close as he holds him close. In the year since Liam moved to the States, he’s seen his brother a total of three times. It’s the longest they’ve spent away from each other their entire lives, but Milah couldn’t leave London, and he didn’t want to leave her.

Sucking in a breath, he pushes Milah from his thoughts and forces a smile.

“Come,” Liam says with a pat on his back. “David is waiting with the truck.”

They gather his luggage and walk outside to find David already standing to greet them. His old friend is just as happy to see him and Killian begins to finally feel that he made the right decision.

“Mary Margaret is excited to have you around,” David tells him. “She’s planning a large dinner tomorrow to celebrate. We tried to tell her to give you a little more time but tomorrow was the best we could get.”

Killian snorts because it surprises him that they were able to get that much. Though he’s only had the pleasure of meeting David’s wife a handful of times, he knows what a spitfire she is and how much she loves to plan.

When they last visited, she insisted they meet Milah—a double date she called it—and though the evening hadn’t gone quite as planned, Mary Margaret was still as sweet as ever.

Milah was the one that…

He shakes his head and looks out the window, ridding himself of unpleasant memories.

“Dinner sounds lovely.”

It takes them just over an hour to make it to Storybrooke with the entire car ride filled with David and Liam speaking to him about their building. He’s never heard of anyone having “building meetings” but from what Liam tells him, it makes life easier and they’ve all become great friends because of it.

He remembers Liam being uncertain when he first suggested he move to the States. Though he and David were fond of each other, he feared that living in the same building might change things.

But then he moved and it took less than a month for Liam to start with his constant badgering of how Killian should join them.

“Emma had to leave town for her work yesterday,” David explains as they park outside of what Killian assumes is his new home. “She’s sorry she couldn’t be here, but hopefully she won’t be gone long.”

Stepping out of the truck, he gives a nod and pulls his carry-on out. Though he’s known David for close to ten years, he’s never had the pleasure of meeting his sister. She was supposed to come to London with David the last he visited, but her job kept her.

“She lives on the top floor,” Liam tells him as they pull the rest of his bags out of the back of the truck. “We should probably warn you, she’s not a fan of doors.”

Killian’s eyebrow goes up. “What’s that now?”

The two men laugh, but before they can explain, there’s a loud shriek before he’s almost tackled by a raven-haired pixie.

“You’re here!” Mary Margaret cries out, her arms wrapping around his neck so tightly he almost chokes. “I’m so happy to see you!”

“Aye,” he chuckles when she pulls away. “It’s good to see you as well.”

Mary Margaret gives him a kiss on the cheek and he feels the tips of his ears start to heat up. Her gaze moves over his face for a moment and he watches as a small smile appears on her lips, but her eyes seem to sadden and his heart starts to pound.

_Does she know?_

Reaching up, she cups his jaw and smiles, “Welcome home.”

He can feel his throat close up and he forces a tight lipped smile, his emotions almost overcoming him to the point where he can’t speak. Home was something he thought he had back in London, until it was taken away from him, but the way she says it...hope sparks inside of him and he finds himself saying, “Thank you, milady.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @yeahiliketheredleatherjacket is the best person in the entire universe because she edits the shit out of this and i love her dearly.
> 
> thank you to the beautiful & talented @thesschesthair for the gorgeous banner. i don’t stare at it all the time because i love it so much <3 
> 
> Double line breaks mean POV changes :)

**Chapter Two**

“Thank you, Miss Swan,” her client’s voice says on the other end of the phone. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

“You as well, Mr. Smith. Take care.”

The call ends and Emma rests her head back against her seat with a small smile. She’s finally home and can start her “stay-cation,” as she likes to call it. Though being a private investigator isn’t a normal working hours job, it sometimes takes her longer to get a case completed. This one in particular took her two weeks and she had to fly to New York; a father was searching for his son and she was able to successfully locate him and arrange a meeting. Now she’s back in Storybrooke and all she wants to do is sit on her balcony and let everything else wash away. Pulling her keys from the ignition, she steps out of her bug and walks toward the library.

If she was smart, she would head home first. She never told anyone when she was returning and she’s already received a few grumbling voicemails asking her whereabouts—she swears if it were at all possible, Liam and David would lojack her so they would know her every move—but she really wants a quiet night to relax and something to read.

Just before she’s about to enter the library, Belle French walks out.

“Emma! It’s so good to see you, I thought you were still away.”

“I just got back. I wanted to stop by and check out a book before I went home.”

Belle adjusts the strap of her purse and smiles, “Well, you’re more than welcome. I’m popping out for a quick lunch but Walter is watching the desk for me and Killian is down in the basement doing inventory.”

Emma’s eyes close and she curses under her breath. Being caught up in her case, she completely forgot that Liam’s brother had moved in while she was gone. Her client called her the day before he was supposed to arrive so she missed meeting him.

“If there’s anything else you need, I’ll be at Granny’s.”

With a final wave, Belle walks off and Emma enters the library. It isn’t as elaborate as the one she visited in New York; most of the books are old and have seen better days, but she likes it because she knows where everything is.

Looking forward, she snorts when she sees Walter sitting at the table in the back asleep. She has no doubt that when Belle left, he was awake, but the second she closed that door, it was lights out. Everyone around town likes to call him Sleepy because of his little talent and he just takes it with stride.

Walking over to the elevator she hits the down button and waits as it descends. It jolts to a stop and she rolls her eyes as she stumbles back. Storybrooke really needs an upgrade. Stepping out, she looks around.

“Hello?”

There isn’t a response. Shrugging, she walks to the stacks and starts to look through them. It takes her a little while, but she finally finds the book she’s looking for and pulls it out.

_Once Upon a Time_

It's stupid really, she's a twenty-eight-year-old woman and her favorite book is one about fairytales… where Snow White is a bandit and the Wicked Witch is the Evil Queen’s sister... but she loves it.

Tucking the book under her arm, she heads back to the elevator. The quicker she can get home, the quicker she can relax. Pressing the button, she steps back as the doors start to close, but just then a hand shoots in between them and she jumps.

“What the…”

Her eyes widen as the doors open to reveal a man with dark hair and crystal blue eyes.

_Dear god, this can’t be…_

“Bloody hell.”

_Yup, it is._

She watches as he shakes his left hand to rid himself of pain and steps into the elevator.

“That’ll teach me to put my hand where it doesn’t belong.”

With her brows furrowed she mumbles, “Something tells me that it won’t.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Perhaps you’re right.” Silence falls over them before he eventually clears his throat, “I’m Killian—”

“Jones,” she finishes for him with a nod. “Liam’s little brother.”

“Younger,” he grumbles and she gives him a side look. “Liam’s _younger_ brother.” Her eyebrow raises while he shakes his head, mutters something to himself and turns back to her with a tight-lipped smile. “I apologize for my rudeness, force of habit on my part.”

It takes her a minute to catch on to what he's talking about because she didn't think he was being rude. She almost feels bad for him, knowing firsthand what it's like to be the younger sibling, so she just shakes her head.

“Don't worry about it.”

“Allow for me to make it up to you. Care to join me for a drink tonight?”

Breathing out in disbelief, she pinches her brow together and asks, “Do you always hit on women you don’t know?”

“You mean gorgeous women such as yourself?”

Mary Margaret warned her that Killian was a shameless flirt and she shouldn’t take it personal, but this is just—his tongue pokes out of the side of his mouth and he smirks.

_Obscene._

Seconds later, the elevator jerks to a stop and she exits without saying a word. Just because he was sinfully good looking doesn't mean she has to give in, _and_ he’s Liam’s brother…

_That’s also a good reason, Emma._

Walking up to the main desk, she goes to lift the scanner to check the book out herself when Killian hops over, quickly taking it from her reach. Her mouth parts and she’s about to ask him what he’s doing when he grins up at her.

“I’ll get that, lass,” he takes the book and opens it to the back cover. “Don’t wish to be lacking my first week.”

She presses her lips together to hide her smile and shakes her head. She knows for a fact that he’s only volunteering at the library, it was _her_ that suggested it to Liam when he told her that his brother enjoyed a good book, but she doesn’t say anything.

There’s a beep as he scans the book into the system.

“Here you are, Lady—” he looks at the computer. “—Swan.” His brow furrows before his gaze snaps back up to her. “E. Swan? As in _Emma_ Swan?”

“All my life,” she answers with a smile.

His eyes widen slightly and he steps back, “ _You’re_ David’s sister?”

“For a while now, yes.” She watches as his gaze moves down her body before back up to her face and her fingers tap on the desk. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” he shakes his head, as if ridding himself of a thought. “Apologies, you just look very different from…”

She rolls her eyes and nods, “Let me guess. The only picture you’ve seen of me is where I’m wearing black framed glasses and my hair tied back in a sloppy ponytail.”

He chuckles and she thinks she sees his cheeks tint. “The glasses were quite fetching.”

“I swear if David could, he would go back in time just to keep me that seventeen-year-old girl forever.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally see you, Swan,” he says with a smile as he hands her the book, dark rings covering his ring and forefinger, and she takes a second to look him over.

Though he and Liam do share some similarities, they are very different. While Liam has a mop of curly hair on top of his head, Killian’s is straight, more floppy and falls over his forehead and while Liam is stocky, Killian is lean and, _wow_ , his ears…

_Seriously, do both Jones brothers have to look like Greek gods? Damn, Brits._

“I’d like to again.”

Taking the book from him, she avoids his gaze and begins to stuff it into her bag, “Well, we do live in the same building.”

“Thank gods for that.” Her eyes roll. “Tell me, love, do you visit our flat often?”

“Not your love,” she grumbles. When he doesn’t say anything, she looks up to see him smirking and barks, “What?”

“Tough lass.”

She presses her lips together to force her mouth to stay shut. Unlike her first meeting with Liam, where he was polite and kind, Killian is completely different…and for some reason it’s irritating her.

“Thanks for the book.”

She turns and walks to the front of the store, Walter’s snores still echoing from the back and pulls the door open to leave but just as she’s about to walk out, Killian calls to her, “See you at home!”

Her jaw drops and she hesitates for only a second before leaving without a response, his words making her stomach flip.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

_“I never loved you…ever. How could I? How could anyone? You’re pathetic.”_

Killian wakes with a gasp and covered in sweat, Milah’s words still replaying through his mind. Lifting his hand to rub his eyes, he ignores the slight pounding in his head and sits up.

He had thought leaving London would stop the flashes, that being around his brother and his mate would cloud his mind and ease the ache in his chest that she left.

He’s tried everything…rum, women, moving…

But he fears he’s doomed to live with the heartbreak of falling in love with a woman that did nothing but use him and spit out the shell of the man that he is now. Reaching for his flask, he swallows the liquid and ignores the burn as it flows down his throat.

He tries to remember a time when the first thing he grabbed for in the morning wasn’t rum, but it’s been years. Rum has always been an escape for him, a short term solution to a lifetime of disappointments.

Pushing off the bed, he walks over to his dresser and pulls out the picture that is tucked away under his clothes. He remembers the day Milah gave it to him. She said it was a gift, so that he may always remember her when she wasn’t around. Little did he know at the time, she was giving it to all her male partners.

“Killian.”

He looks over to see Liam opening his door and feels a quick wave of irritation.

“Do you not know how to knock?” He asks dryly as he stuffs the photo back in his dresser.

Liam ignores his question and leans against the doorframe. “How did you sleep?”

“Are you going to continue to ask me that, brother?” His tone changes to light and playful. “I’m perfectly well, you know that.”

It’s all a pack of lies. Since the moment Milah left him, it’s as if the sun had set, never to rise again and he’s forced to live in perpetual darkness. But no one around him need know that, so he wears a mask. He’ll smile, he’ll laugh, he’ll go on like everything is fine and force his demons down until he’s alone.

“David phoned. Emma has returned, we’re to get together this morning.”

“Ah, yes, I had the pleasure of meeting the lovely Miss Swan yesterday.”

Liam stands up straight. “You met her?”

Killian moves over to the chair in the corner of his room and picks up his t-shirt. “Aye. She popped by the library for a book, though I wasn’t aware it was her until she checked out.”

He remembers watching her walk off the elevator and how he was stunned into silence, his entire body frozen. She was bloody gorgeous, a goddess…he hadn’t even realized he’d been staring until she started to leave and he forced himself to move just so he could get close to her. She smelled of apples and cinnamon and he wanted nothing more than to know if she tasted the same...then it all came crashing down.

“Bullocks,” he raises an eyebrow when Liam curses under his breath. “She bloody well knows that she’s supposed to phone after her flights…stubborn lass.” He lifts his hand and points. “I dare say you two are a lot alike.”

“How’s that?” Killian asks as he pulls his shirt over his head. “Because we’re both good looking?”

_More like drop dead gorgeous._

Liam rolls his eyes. “You’re both going to be the death of me, that’s why. But it’s nice to know what you think of her, and she’s hands _off_ , Killian, I mean it.”

Throwing a glare, he busies himself with making his bed. The fact that Liam felt that he had to even say something like that tells him _exactly_ what his brother thinks of him. It’s true after Milah he left a trail of women behind in London, but they were just passing fancies, warm bodies to keep away the feeling of being lonely, but this is David’s _sister_ , and though she is beautiful and he did lay on the charm, he’s not going to risk a friendship just so he may get his jollies off.

There’s still a sting at his words, though. He’s well aware of what a letdown he is to Liam, and that he’ll never be able to reach that bar his brother has placed so high above him…but it still hurts.

“It’s my turn for breakfast,” Liam goes on. “I’m off to Granny’s for some—” His words stop when Killian’s flask falls to the ground. “Are you drinking already?”

With a huff, he throws it to the side. “Well, we’re out of coffee, what do you propose I drink, water?”

His brother sighs. “I’m going out to pick up some donuts and tea—” Killian holds back his snort. “—do you have any requests?”

“More rum?” he asks with a grin.

“Coffee it is,” Liam answers before turning and walking out of the room.

* * *

“Usually we get together once a week,” Liam explains as they walk out into the hall. “To split the bills and decide whose turn it is to food shop.”

“Food shop?” Killian asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Aye,” his brother answers. “When David first acquired this building, they didn’t have much so they put a box in the hall.” They step up onto the landing and he motions to the makeshift kitchen area before placing the donuts on a counter. “Though we all have our own now, Emma isn’t much of a cook and you know how well I venture with the activity, so Mary Margaret tends to take up cooking for all of us.”

“I dare say I still have nightmares over some of the meals you attempted when we were young,” Killian says with a slight hint of fear.

He chuckles when Liam shoves against his arm and brings his coffee to his lips as David and Mary Margaret exit their flat. The way both of their faces light up when they see him makes him feel happy but slightly uncomfortable. It’s been _years_ since anyone besides Liam has been happy about his presence and he doesn’t know how to handle it, so he puts on his mask and steps forward with a grin.

“Morning, milady,” he kisses her cheek. “I trust you slept well.”

She pats his elbow and moves to take one of the cups Liam brought up, “The last week of school is coming up, so lots of cataloging that keeps me up, but luckily my husband understands.”

He looks over to see David and Liam chatting and whispers to her, “Hopefully he also understands that after such exhausting work, his wife deserves a little _relaxation_.”

He wiggles his eyebrows up and down, making Mary Margaret blush before she slaps his chest.

“What did I tell you about flirting with my wife, Jones?” David calls out, though there’s a light smile on his face.

“To do it often and frequently?”

They all chuckle and Killian takes a sip of his coffee.

“Where’s Emma?”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes. “Probably still sleeping. If she’s not down in ten minutes, I’ll go get her.”

“Did she call either of you yesterday before she returned?” Liam asks, and when both shake their heads, he huffs. “That girl will never learn.”

“She’s a grown woman, brother,” Killian snorts. “I hardly think she needs to inform you lot on her every move.”

“Something could have happened, Killian! What would we have done then?”

His brother’s tone makes him stop. He cares for the lass, that much is clear, but there’s something else. Before he can think too much about it, there’s the sound of the door opening above them.

“Sorry!” A female voice calls out. “I’m here, I’m here!”

Looking up, he’s almost blinded as Emma rushes down the steps. The sun shines bright from the window on the third floor, making her look as if she’s glowing and he has to swallow. She’s wearing cotton pajama pants with some sort of cartoon character printed on them, a white tank top and, _gods_ , her breasts are fantastic. Her long blonde hair is cascading over her shoulders in waves as pretty as any he’s seen at sea and his breath hitches when she smiles.

_Bloody hell_.

“Did I miss anything?”

“Is that a Mountain Dew?” David asks, his voice dripping with disbelief.

Emma looks down at the green bottle in her hands and shrugs, “I was out of coffee and needed caffeine. What did you expect me to drink, water?”

Killian chokes on his coffee as she repeats the same words he had spoken to Liam not an hour before. Looking toward his brother, he’s met with a slight nod of ‘told you so’ before he steps forward.

“We were just discussing your failure to inform us of your flight.”

She takes a cup of coffee and begins to add sugar and cream. “It was a last minute flight and I was tired. I’ve been asleep since I got in.”

“Emma,” David starts with a sigh. “What if something happened?”

“I can take care of myself.” She turns to Killian and he has to swallow when her green eyes connect with his. “Jones.”

He rewards her with a grin and slight bow of the head, “Swan.”

When her eyes roll, his smile widens and when Liam lifts his eyebrow in question, Killian just shakes his head.

“What do you think of having a little get together?” Mary Margaret asks while Emma digs through the box of pastries.

David, Liam, and Mary Margaret begin to discuss it while Killian watches Emma. There’s something about the way her nose scrunches as she searches through the box that he finds adorable. It makes her lips pout just slightly and he can’t help but think about biting them.

Shaking his head, he takes another sip of his coffee. Oh, how he wishes it was rum. There have been plenty of women that have caught his eye in the six months since Milah left, but none quite like Emma Swan has, and he’s only been in her presence twice.

“Now that Emma’s back, we can celebrate Killian moving in and he can get to know some of our friends better—”

“Where are the bear claws?” Emma interrupts.

Everyone stops to look at her as she turns toward Liam.

“Granny was all out, I’m afraid,” he answers quickly. “Was unable to acquire any.”

Killian’s eyebrow raises because he thought he saw some on the island in their kitchen, but he keeps his mouth shut. Emma, however, tilts her head at Liam.

“Really?” When his brother doesn’t answer, she gives a slow nod. “Okay.”

There’s something about the way she says it that makes him think she doesn’t believe him. Mary Margaret steps forward and starts to talk about food shopping and what she’s making for dinner, but he can’t stop watching Emma. She’s eyeing Liam with suspicion and inching toward the steps leading down to their flat.

“Now Killian,” Mary Margaret says. “Do you want anything special?”

His gaze snaps over to her. “Uh,” he shakes his head. “What’s that now?”

She doesn’t get a chance to repeat herself because Emma suddenly runs down the steps.

“Bloody hell,” Liam growls while running after her. “Emma Swan, don’t you dare!”

“Here we go,” David mumbles with a shake of his head.

Killian watches with wide eyes as Mary Margaret yells, “Emma! This isn’t the way to introduce Killian to our meetings!”

The three of them quickly follow and the sight he’s met with when they enter makes him stare in shock.

“You _liar_!” Emma gasps as she holds the box of bear claws in front of her. “You know the rules—no holding back on breakfast foods!”

Liam stands on the other side of the island with his feet spread, ready to run in either direction.

“I’m a grown man,” he growls. “Why can't I have my own?”

Her mouth drops and she stands up straight with, quite possibly, the most adorable pout he's ever seen. “It’s supposed to bring us closer together!”

“You eat _all_ of the bear claws!” Liam accuses. “You’re supposed to bloody share!”

Killian watches the two with his mouth parted and his brows together. His brother is the one that raised him since their father abandoned them and never _once_ has he seen him act like this. Liam has always been so straight-edge and stiff-shouldered.

_“You’re an adult, Killian. You must always hold yourself with respect.”_

Now, he’s currently chasing David’s sister around their kitchen while she tries to stuff an entire pastry into her mouth and Mary Margaret yells at them to stop acting like children.

“What…is happening?”

David steps up next to him and crosses his arms over his chest, “When your brother first moved in, it was Emma’s turn to bring the breakfast and she introduced him to Granny’s bear claws. Ever since, it’s a battle between the two whenever we have a meeting who gets the last one.”

He opens his mouth to respond but stops when he sees Liam wrap his arm around Emma’s waist and pull her to him. Pieces of the pastry fly from her mouth as she giggles, her arm holding the box away to keep it out of his reach while Liam’s hand grips her hip.

It seems normal for them and very… _intimate_ , and for a reason he’s not too sure of, Killian doesn’t like it.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the beautiful @yeahiliketheredleatherjacket for her awesome job at not making me look like an idiot and her constant flailing.
> 
> @thesschesthair is a wonderful human who made this beautiful banner and is just the absolute best.
> 
> I know I said bi-weekly updates, and after this week, they will go back to being bi-weekly, but Monday is my birthday and I decided to ‘treat yo-self’ because you guys always make me smile. So by the time I get back from my mini vacation, your comments will be presents to myself. <3

**Chapter Three**

Emma eats her cereal as she stares out into the sky. It’s the tail end of spring; the sun is high and she can smell the ocean in the air as a large gust of wind passes through. It’s one of her favorite things to do, sitting out on her balcony with a book and her camera, just taking in the silence and admiring the beauty of Storybrooke without a care or thought.

However, it seems her mind has other plans, because she can’t seem to stop it from thinking about Killian Jones.

If she’s honest with herself, she hasn’t _stopped_ thinking about him since she left the library the day prior. There was just something about him that got under her skin. It’s true, he’s good looking— _disgustingly_ so—but she really didn’t expect him not to be. Liam Jones is a fine looking man; her and Mary Margaret often joke that he reminds them of an old film actor girls would look at with their chins placed on their hands as they sighed deeply, _“He’s so dreamy!”_

But Killian is a different creature all in his own and boy does he _know_ it.

Where Liam is humble with his looks, Killian is more in-your-face with his. He knows they are there and uses them as a distraction—she could tell that earlier when they were in the hall. He smirked and held himself straight, but there was something in his eyes that told her he was hiding something…something he didn’t want anyone to know.

She hears a knock on her front door and rolls her eyes. The only person that knocks without entering, no matter how many times she tells him it’s fine, is Liam.

Climbing back in through her window, she walks over to the door and opens it.

“Next time I’m going to make you stand out there without saying a word,” she tells him before taking another spoonful of her cereal.

“You said that last time, lass.”

With a shrug, she walks toward her kitchen and sits down at the island.

“What can I do for you, Liam?” she asks.

He brushes his hand through his hair and moves to sit on the stool next to her.

“I wanted to make sure Killian behaved himself yesterday when you two met at the library. I know he can be a bit…”

“Flirty?” she finishes for him.

He rolls his eyes and continues, “ _Intense_. He means nothing untoward, I assure you. He’s a good man, he’s just—”

“Liam,” she cuts him off, putting her hand on his arm to stop his rambling. It’s clear that after their sparkling greeting toward each other, he’s worried they might not get along and though she fears that he might be right, she doesn’t want to worry him. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

When he sighs in relief, she sits back and takes another mouthful of her cereal. She’s spent many nights with Liam in his apartment, listening to him speak about Killian. It’s obvious the love he has for his brother and how worried he is about him.

“You’re the only one that didn’t know him before, and I would never wish for you to be uncomfortable.”

With a snort, she picks up her empty bowl and takes it to the sink, “Relax, teddy bear, you worry too much. We are adults, I’m sure we can behave ourselves.”

He lets out another sigh and gives her a smile, “Thank you, Emma.”

Liam stays for a little while longer. She tells him about the case she just finished while he talks about his job. It wasn’t always easy talking with Liam. When he first moved to Storybrooke, he was very set in his ways and almost standoffish. They fought a couple times; she called him a self-righteous ass while he called her an impudent child.

David had to hold her back from punching him for that one, but later that night he knocked on her door to “wave the white flag” he said.

_“I’m afraid we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, and I take full responsibility. You see, I’m far from home and I-I miss my brother. It’s been harder than I thought it would be and you remind me of him, and, well, I guess I just took it out on you, so to speak. I know it’s not an excuse for my behavior, but I’m hoping that in time you may forgive me.”_

She invited him in and they’ve been close ever since.

“Ah, apologies,” he starts as his phone rings from his pocket. “I’d forgotten I had this with me.”

“It’s a phone, Liam,” she snorts. “They ring sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes before putting the phone to his ear, “Killian…I’m upstairs, is there a problem?...Oh, yes, I seem to have lost track of time, I’ll be right down…No, I’m with Emma…” She lifts her eyebrow at his look of confusion before he speaks again. “Yes, in her flat…Is there—Bloody Hell, Killian, I’ll be right down. Sorry, lass,” he says to her as he puts his phone in his pocket and stands. “I popped up here while Killian was in the shower and completely forgot that I told him we would go look for a new mattress earlier. I have to run.”

“Oh god, please tell me he hasn’t been sleeping on that crappy old one? I thought you all were going to get a new one when he first moved in?”

She knows from experience how terrible that bed is, it had been hers back when they lived in Boston. It was moved down to that apartment when she was finally able to afford a new one for the sake of having an extra bed.

“We were,” he assures while they walk toward her front door. “But then things came up…”

“Mary Margaret told me the three of you got shit-faced the first couple nights after he moved in.”

At least he has the decency to look ashamed. “It was the first time I had seen my brother in _months_. The three of us were merely celebrating.”

She opens her door and rests her weight against the handle. “And that celebration included drunk twister?”

“Goodbye, Emma.”

She giggles as he leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead before he walks out the door.  

* * *

At least once a week, Emma and Mary Margaret like to get together for what they call ‘girls nights’ where they will have a few drinks and talk about random and mundane subjects that, most of the time, make no sense to anyone but them. Growing up, Emma didn’t have any girlfriends, the only person she had in her life was David and while she’s never been the type of girl to want to talk about hair or makeup, she can admit to herself that it would have been nice thing to experience.

It’s also why she doesn’t mind it when Mary Margaret comes barreling through her apartment three days after she’s returned and all but demands they get to together.

“How were your days off?”

Sipping her margarita, Emma folds her legs up underneath her and gives a shrug. “They were good. I slept for the most part, but today I went out and took some pictures.”

“You should really try and sell them online—not the personal ones, of course, but the scenery ones around town. You could make some real money from them!” Mary Margaret says with a smile.

“I don’t know,” Emma answers, taking another sip of her drink to hide her unease. “I mean, if you see one picture of a lake, you’ve seen them all.”

When she doesn’t get a response, she looks over to see Mary Margaret staring at her with her head tilted and her lips pressed together. Emma gives her an innocent smile, making her roll her eyes before she turns to look back on the street.

They spend their time drinking margaritas and eating cookies and candy, Emma telling her about her case and how she found a cute little boutique in New York that sold hand crafted jewelry while Mary Margaret tells her about how her brother wants to turn the roof into a rooftop deck.

“How would that even work?”

Shrugging, Mary Margaret leans over and takes a cookie. “He thinks he can build another set of stairs leading down to your escape. Apparently, Liam is going to draw up the plans.”

“Seriously?” she groans. “That means they would be in my apartment nonstop! Any way we can stop this?”

“Maybe if we hit him on the head. I’ll grab a rock!”

The girls share giggles as the sound of a window opening echoes from below them. Looking down, they see Killian emerge from his bedroom.

They’ve only seen each other a handful of times since she’s been back—

_They are all helping Killian bring in his new bedroom set and he steps back to allow Liam through when she jumps and pulls him toward her._

_“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”_

_His arms circle around her and when she looks up, he’s smirking. “It’s about bloody time.”_

_Pushing him away, she straightens her clothes and motions to the stairs leading down to the basement._

_“You almost fell.”_

_He nods, “Well, that’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time—” he reaches up to brush her hair over her shoulder. “—don’t stand on ceremony.”_

_\---_

_Emma climbs into Liam’s apartment to give him the photos she took of the new boat down at the docks when she finds Killian attempting to move a bookshelf back against the wall._

_“What are you doing?”_

_When he looks up, he loses his grip and it tilts back slamming against his hand._

_“Bloody hell!”_

_Rushing over, she pulls the bookshelf forward until he’s able to free himself before she lets it drop and takes his hand in her own._

_“Are you okay?” she asks, examining him._

_He’s not bleeding, but there is definitely going to be a bruise._

_“Aye, just a slight ache—which is more than can be said for other bad days I’ve had.” She flips it over just to make sure when he steps forward. “Wish to be my nurse maid, love?”_

_Letting his hand drop, she tilts her head and rolls her eyes._

_“You’re awfully chipper for a guy who smashed his hand trying to move a bookshelf.”_

_He holds it up and wiggles his fingers, “Well, my hand may be injured but everything else is still intact. Tell me, Swan, is there another attachment you’d prefer?”_

—and whenever they pass each other in the hall, he loves to give her a wink that makes her want to punch him in his stupidly attractive face.

It seems he also enjoys sitting out on the balcony because at least twice a day he’s out there smoking a cigarette and staring out into the distance. She never approaches him, even stays inside until he’s gone, but she does poke her head out to watch him every so often.

Emma shrinks back into her chair, hoping he won’t notice they are—

“Hi, Killian!”

_Son of a bitch._

He tilts his head up, his brows furrowed as a slow smirk forms on his face. “Milady…Swan.”

“Jones.”

She watches as he climbs up the stairs and runs her hands through her hair. The sun hasn’t set yet so she figured they had plenty of time before he came out, but she was wrong.

“How are you ladies this fine evening?” he asks as he stops just at the top of the stairs without stepping onto the balcony.

Mary Margaret lifts her drink and shakes it with a smile while Emma takes another sip from her glass, looking at anything but him.

“We’re having an impromptu girls night.”

“A girls night…I do hope I didn’t miss the pillow fight.”

Emma rolls her eyes while Mary Margaret giggles and waves her hand. “That’s not until later.”

They all turn when a phone rings from inside the loft and Mary Margaret sighs.

“That’s probably your brother. I’ll be right back.”

Emma sits up, almost wanting to ask her not to leave them alone, but she’s gone before she gets the chance. Taking another sip of her drink, she makes it a point to keep her eyes ahead and not on the man she knows is staring at her.

“I heard a joke today.”

She blinks twice before finally looking over at him. “What?”

“A joke, it’s a string of words that come together in order to create amusement.”

“I know what a joke is,” she growls.

“It was quite funny.”

When he doesn’t go any further, she raises her brow in question. “Are you going to tell it to me?”

“I will,” he starts slowly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “On one condition.”

“Seriously?” He nods and she shakes her head. “Forget it.”

His thumb tucks under his belt buckle and he shrugs, “Suit yourself.”

Silence falls over them and her jaw clenches. He’s not leaving and she doesn’t understand why he would bring up the fact that he heard a joke if he wasn’t going to tell her—or why it’s bothering her so much.

“What’s the condition?”

He doesn’t even attempt to hide his smirk as he wiggles a finger at her. “You have to be nice to me.”

“Excuse me?” she breathes out in disbelief.

“It’s not hard, kindness will get you a long way.”

Pressing her lips together, she gives him a hard stare. “I’m pretty sure I don’t like your condition.”

“I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to like it, love.” The way he presses his tongue to the back of his teeth makes her grind her own. _Why must he be so infuriating?_ “Do we have an accord?”

She’s about to tell him to forget it, that there’s no way she’s going to agree to be nice to someone that purposely annoys her just to hear some stupid fucking joke.

But when her mouth opens, she hears herself grumble, “Whatever.”

His eyes sparkle before he taps his finger to his lips and points at her. “Why is Peter Pan always flying?” She tilts her head in question and he can barely contain his excitement as he answers, “Because he never lands!”

Her mouth falls open and for a quick second she doesn’t know _what_ to say. She just stares at him while he stands there looking extremely proud of himself. If she’s honest, that’s what almost makes her laugh.

_Almost_ , but she refuses to give him the satisfaction.

“That’s the worst joke I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

Biting his lip, he tips his head and says, “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

He lets out a little chuckle. “Don’t forget about our deal, love. You have to be nice to me.”

“Do you enjoy torturing me?”

He grins. “I do, actually.”

“Well, I don’t,” she almost growls. “And you’re not as irresistible as you think you are.”

“You sure about that?”

Glaring at him, she says dryly, “I’m amazed you’re able to walk around with that big head of yours.”

He opens his mouth, but Mary Margaret climbs back out before he can respond.

“Did I miss anything?”

Emma lifts her glass while Killian shakes his head. “Not at all. I was just about to head back, forgive the intrusion.”

“Would you like to join us?”

Her head snaps over to Mary Margaret, making Killian chuckle. “I appreciate the offer, lass, but I’ll have to decline. Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies.”

He holds his arms out and bends at the waist, giving a slight bow before heading down the fire escape and back into his apartment.

“He’s good looking, isn’t he?”

Emma’s eyes go wide. “Mar!”

“Please,” she answers with an eye roll. “I’m married, not blind…and according to David, he left a string of broken hearts back in London.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” she murmurs, swishing her drink around. “Wasn’t he seeing someone when you guys went to visit, though?”

Mary Margaret nods, her lips forming a straight line. “They broke up about six months ago and, honestly, it was for the best.”

That makes her stop. The entire time she’s known Mary Margaret she hasn’t seen her get angry with anyone. She’s always the person that says everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.

“I thought you said she was nice?” Emma asks, licking some salt on her finger.

With a huff, she takes a cookie from the plate and says, “I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt because she was with Killian, but she was so rude!” Emma’s brows hit her hairline and she rests her chin on her hand. “When your brother and I went to London, I set up this big night out for all of us so that we could get to know each other. She showed up late and drunk, and I just didn’t like the way she treated Killian.”

She pops an m&m into her mouth and smirks. “You don’t like the way anyone treats people you care about. Remember when I dated Jefferson?”

“He kidnapped you!”

“We went on a trip,” Emma explains with a slight chuckle. “And it was supposed to be a surprise, that’s why I didn’t get to tell you guys until we were gone.”

Mary Margaret looks at her with her jaw clenched. “You called to have Liam pick you up at three thirty in the morning.”

“He started talking about living together!” She cries out. “We’d only been dating for a month!”

The woman across from her sighs and brushes a piece of hair away from her face. “Are you ever going to give someone a chance?”

“Can we not have this conversation?” Emma snaps, sitting up and preparing herself for a battle. “Just because you and David have this fairytale love story doesn’t mean everyone is going to have one, too.”

“That’s only because you won’t _try_ ,” she insists, making Emma huff and shake her head.

“There’s nothing wrong with being cautious.”

“True,” Mary Margaret continues. “But Emma, that wall of yours…it may keep out pain, but it also may keep out love.”

It’s not the first time Mary Margaret has tried to talk to her about her love life; it happens at least once a month, but it’s a little earlier than expected. She has a feeling it has something to do with her ending things with Walsh.

“How was the last day of school?” Emma asks.

Her sister-in-law gives her a look that tells her she knows what she’s doing but doesn’t say anything. She goes along with the subject change and Emma sighs in relief.

They stay outside for a long while. When David comes home from work, he finds his wife a giggling mess—Mary Margaret has never been able to hold her liquor. After helping David take her inside, Emma heads back up to her apartment and lays down in her bed, where she dreams she’s aboard the Jolly Roger, flying through the stars on her way to Neverland.

* * *

 

One of Emma’s favorite things to do is to go to different spots around town and take pictures because it always seems to put her at ease. It’s a habit she picked up after Ruth adopted her. She never had any pictures growing up, and it’s not like she really _wanted_ them, there was never anything she really wanted to remember.

Then she had a family and decided she didn’t want to miss a minute of it.

Moving closer to the lake, she snaps a few photos of the swans in the water just as her stomach begins to growl. With a quick look over her shoulder, she checks the clock tower in the distance to see that it’s just past noon.

_Probably should get something to eat._

Packing up her camera, she takes the short walk back to her building, only stopping twice to say hi to people around town. Her keys jingle as she unlocks the entrance of their building and walks inside. The halls are quiet, but that doesn’t surprise her, everyone is working which means she has to either whip up something for lunch or head over to Granny’s.

Just as she opens the door to her apartment, she hears her cell phone beep from its spot on the counter.

**I should be able to stop at home for lunch. Pick it up then? – L**

Without bothering to answer, she puts her camera down and walks to her balcony. Liam usually gets an hour lunch so she’s hoping she hasn’t missed him. Opening the window to his apartment, she throws her leg over the ledge and climbs through.

“Hey, teddy bear, you home?”

There isn’t a response so she walks into the kitchen because she knows that the first thing Liam does when he gets home is put his keys and wallet on the island and her brows furrow when she finds a bottle of rum. Liam doesn’t usually drink ru—

_Oh fuck_.

Cursing under her breath, she turns to leave, hoping that she can get out before Killian realizes she’s there, because even though Liam is used to her showing up out of nowhere, Killian might not—

The bathroom door opens just as she’s about to cross the hall and she stops in her tracks. When Emma sees Killian, her mouth falls open, her eyes widen and her stomach does a slight flip.

He’s running his hand through his hair, pushing the wet locks away from his forehead making a bead of water run down his neck and her eyes can’t help but follow its trail. It traces down a vein, through his scruff until it reaches his collar bone. When he drops his arm, the water droplet falls down the front of his chest and disappears into— _oh fuck_ —the forest of hair on his chest. Her fingers twitch to know what it feels like and she swallows, her throat suddenly dry, as her eyes follow the trail of the hair to his hard stomach down to—wow that towel is hanging really low.

“Swan,” her eyes snap back up to his face and she can feel her cheeks start to burn. From his grin, she can tell he’s caught her staring and her heart starts to race. He walks forward and she wills her body to move, screams at it in her head, but she’s completely frozen. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“S-sorry,” she forces out.

He stops just in front of her and she can feel the heat from his skin against her own.

“No need to apologize, love. To what do I owe—” his eyes move slowly down her body. “—the _pleasure_.”

There’s more innuendo in that one word than she thought possible and it makes her almost whimper. She’s never been a fan of big muscles, sure, they are nice to look at, but what really gets her going is when a guy takes his shirt off and she’s pleasantly surprised by what’s underneath and Killian so _no_ disappointment.

_Wow._

“I didn’t know you would be home…” she trails off.

“Oh, you didn’t? Pity,” he gives a slight pout, “and here I was hoping one of my dreams was becoming reality.”

“Please,” she breathes out before she realizes what she’s doing, “You couldn’t handle it.”

_What the fuck are you doing?!_

His eyes widen ever so slightly, amusement dancing in them as he whispers, “Perhaps _you’re_ the one that couldn’t handle it.”

She’s pretty sure she knows words, or at least she used to, but they seem to be failing her. There’s no logical explanation as to why she flirted back with him. It’s as if her brain has just stopped working and all she’s thinking with is her throbbing core.

When she doesn’t say anything, he leans forward with his tongue poking out to drag across his bottom lip and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t help but watch it.

“Mind telling me how you got in here, love?”

Her eyes flicker down to his stomach again—that towel is really fucking low—before she motions over her shoulder, “The w-window.”

He smirks, and she’s not sure if she wants to punch or kiss him.

_Maybe both._

He steps even closer and her entire body goes stiff. She can feel his breath on her face and the scent of his soap invades her senses. Suddenly, her brain starts to slowly function again and the all too familiar feeling of irritation starts to rise.

“Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?” Her voice is lower and huskier than she intends.

Breathing out a chuckle, his eyes move to her lips and he says, “Personal space? Remind me, _sweetheart_ , who just climbed into who’s flat without permission?”

“I was looking for your brother.”

His head snaps back at that, “ _Liam_?” She nods, her brow furrowing at his tone. It’s a mixture of shock and disbelief. He steps back and lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “He’s at work, why would you come here if he’s at work?”

She clears her throat, “I thought he was coming home for lunch.”

“What would lead you to believe he would be home for lunch?”

“Because he told me he would.” Killian stays silent with a blank look on his face. “What do you care?”

His jaw ticks, “I don’t.”

They continue to stare at each other, silence falling over them but the air is thick. He’s moved back some, but his scent is still all around her and it makes her wonder just exactly what his skin tastes like. It wouldn’t take much, she wouldn’t even have to move her feet, to press her lips to his, to run her fingers through the fur on his chest…

_No!_

With her heart pounding, she motions behind her, “I should go…I’ll try to remember to use the door from now on.”

“Aye.” His voice is cold, somewhat distant and it makes her confused. She really hadn’t meant to impose, it’s just a habit she’s picked up since she’s mostly always outside. Opening her mouth to apologize, she’s cut off when he steps back, “I’ll see you later, Swan.”

He turns, walking down the hall without a word as she tries to ignore the pit in her stomach.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, as always, to the wonderful @yeahiliketheredleatherjacket for her awesome editing/read throughs. I can’t wait to see your ass in October <3
> 
> @thesschesthair is basically a banner making goddess and i love her.
> 
> double line breaks mean change of POV

**Chapter Four**

There aren’t many things that will make Killian take handouts. He’s always been a firm believer that you must work for the things you want.

_A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets_.

So, when Liam offered him a job down at the docks, he told him he would find his own means of living without any aid.

However, when David approached him about a job opening at the local service shop, Killian jumped at the opportunity. It's not something he can really explain, but ever since he was young, he has always been fascinated with taking things apart, finding out the problem and putting them back together. At the age of fifteen he rebuilt his first transmission, and by the time he graduated high school he was able to determine almost exactly what was wrong with a car by simply listening to it drive.

The entire process eases his mind; he finds while concentrating on taking an engine apart there isn't much time to think of anything else—and if there's one thing he needs in his life, it's a distraction from the demons that plague his thoughts on a daily basis.

The owner, Gus, hires him without question. Being the only service shop in town, the older man was all too willing to have a second hand to help when things back up, though he's not too sure why that is. Storybrooke being so small, he often wonders why anyone would need to purchase a vehicle at all. Perhaps old habits die hard.

He hears his name and looks up to see the town’s handyman waving to him from atop a ladder outside of his shop as Killian walks to the diner for some lunch.

In London, he was able to walk a full mile without anyone so much as smiling at him, but in Storybrooke, he barely gets a block without people calling out to him in greeting. It’s something to get used to, but he always answers back with a smile and wave.

The bell rings above his head as he enters the diner. It’s busier than he thought, but then again Storybrooke shops are always filled with people.

_Does nobody bloody work in this town?_

With a nod and smile, he walks to the counter and greets Ruby, “’Ello, lass.”

“Hey, Killian. I hear there’s a party this weekend in your honor.”

His eyes roll and he nods. “I have a feeling it has more to do with the fact that Mary Margaret likes to plan.”

Ruby gives a snort. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Will you be stopping by?”

“Yeah,” she answers while pouring a cup of coffee for the person sitting at the counter. “After my shift I’m going to run home and get changed, then Dorothy and I will be over.”

“Brilliant, it’ll be nice to have familiar faces.”

She gives him a wink before walking off to see if his order’s ready. Leaning on the counter, he begins to look around. To his surprise—and pleasure—he sees Emma sitting in a booth at the back eating a sandwich and looking through an open folder. The last he saw her was just the night prior; they were all having dinner at David’s when she climbed through the window to join them and he decided to have some fun.

Apparently, she has a spot—David’s counter top—where she likes to sit while Mary Margaret cooks, so he stood there, smirking, as she tapped her foot and glared. When he stepped forward to fetch a beer, she nearly skidded across the floor, quickly hopping up onto the counter before he could even blink.

He can’t quite explain it, but he really does enjoy messing with her. The way her green eyes darken and how she flushes red…it’s honestly the cutest thing he’s ever seen...

Which is why it takes him about two seconds before he decides to approach her.

He waits a tick to stroll over to where she sits, wondering if she’ll notice him. When she doesn’t, he plops himself down across from her, smirking when she jumps.

“Fancy seeing you here, Swan.”

Her face morphs from surprise to annoyed, and he has to hold back his snort.

“Jones.”

His tongue pokes out and he suddenly wonders what his name would sound like coming from her beautiful pink lips. She closes the folder and pushes it to the side, revealing her grilled cheese and onion rings.

“Enjoying your lunch?”

“I was,” she answers, a fake smile spreading across her face.

His hand moves to his chest and he mocks pain. “You wound me, love. You make it seem as if my presence displeases you.”

“What would _ever_ give you that idea?”

She bats her eyelashes and a chuckle bubbles in the back of his throat. It’s been ages since he’s found a woman that gives as good as she takes and it intrigues him.

Emma Swan is slowly becoming one of his most favorite people.

“I honestly don’t know,” he answers, a hint of wonder in his voice. “Because I can’t see how my being here would displease you, I _am_ rather dashing to look at.”

“Are you always this cocky?”

“Only when beautiful women are involved.” Her brow pinches together and he motions toward the front counter. “I was speaking of Granny, of course.”

He’s rewarded with a genuine laugh and it warms his heart, but then she seems to catch on to what she’s doing and tries to cover it with a cough. Placing both of his arms in front of him, he intertwines his fingers and watches her.

She tries very hard to ignore him, he’ll give her that, but every few seconds her eyes will flicker up before moving back down to her food. After a moment, he sees her shoulders square as she brushes a piece of hair away from her face, almost as if she’s preparing herself for battle before she asks, “How are you liking Storybrooke?”

His head tilts and his eyes move over her face. For the first time since they’ve met, she’s attempting small talk with him, and while part of him wants to continue with their verbal sparring, another part is curious to know what a normal conversation with Emma Swan is like.

“Seems alright,” he answers with a shrug. “Though I don’t think I’ll ever get over the ‘small town’ thing.” Leaning forward, he whispers, “Did you know Granny told me she could drink me under the table? This was after she offered to knit me a blanket with my name on it.”

She stares at him for half a second before bursting out in laughter, which in turn makes him do the same.

“I’m not bloody joking,” he laughs. “She then proceeded to offer to cook me meatloaf surprise, which I’m not entirely sure what that is.”

Her hand lifts to wave in front of her face as she continues to laugh, her cheeks creasing and her eyes sparkling. When she leans forward, her hair makes a curtain in front of her face and he has the sudden urge to reach out and wrap a strand around his finger.

“I don’t think anyone really knows what it is,” she says after her laughter dies down, the smile still etched on her face.

“Thank gods I know how to fend for myself then.”

Her eyebrow goes up and she folds her arms on the table. “You can cook?”

“Does that surprise you?”

She opens and closes her mouth a few times before answering. “A little, yes.”

He gives a slight shrug. “Milah enjoyed a home cooked meal.”

“Who’s Milah?”

His entire body goes stiff and his stomach knots. For a half a second he wonders why Emma’s asking about her before it hits him. He hadn’t realized what he was saying, so caught up in the conversation that he’d forgotten who he was, and why he keeps his mask so securely in place.

Reaching up to scratch at his scruff, he shakes his head and murmurs, “Someone from long ago.”

The air thickens and his hands itch for his flask and a fag. It’s been three months since he’s spoken her name, vowing to himself he wouldn’t until he won her back, but he’s just broken that vow because he was too consumed with the beautiful woman across from him.

“Your ex? I remember Liam mentioning her a while back.” Wiping at his lips, he holds back his growl and she flinches. “Bad break up?”

He leans back and stares, his thumb fiddling with his rings as his jaw clenches. Never once has he spoken about what happened between them, not even with Liam. As far as anyone is concerned, they broke up and he’s not thought of her since.

But the way Emma’s eyes move over him makes him nervous, as if she’s reading him like no one ever has, and it pisses him off.

“She’s gone, that’s all you need know.”

It comes out more clipped and harsh than he intends and she blinks, her mouth falling open in confusion. Silence falls over them as he tries to control his emotions. The last person that asked him about Milah had been Liam. It was right after she left him and his brother came to London for a visit. He brushed it off, convinced he would win her back before the month was out and lost himself in the bottle.

Movement makes him look up. He watches Emma bring a glass to her lips, her gaze locked on the food in front of her. Guilt washes over him because once again he allowed his demons to surface and ruin a perfectly good conversation.

Taking a deep breath, his eyes move down in embarrassment and the folder she pushed off to the side when he sat down catches his gaze.

“What’s that?” he asks, motioning to it.

Sighing, she wipes her hands on her napkin. “Just some photos I took.”

“May I have the honor?”

She hesitates for half a second, eyes flashing with what he thinks may be insecurity before she gives a tight nod and pushes the folder toward him.

Most of the pictures are of around town, the trees, a few by what looks to be a small lake, and a beautiful one of a boat down at the docks, but the last bunch is what makes him suck in a breath.

They are of the group of them when they helped him move in his new bedroom set. There’s a photo of Mary Margaret holding up a hanging plant while Liam is pointing to something in the distance. There’s one of David smiling with his hands on his hips, one of him, Liam and David laughing as they stand by the truck, and then there’s the one of himself. He’s standing outside the building, his sleeves pushed up, his hair is a little wild, and there is a large smile on his face.

He doesn’t remember it being taken, or any of them really, but there’s one thing that is consistent in each photo: He looks… _happy_.

“It’s a hobby.” Her words make him look up. She’s tapping her fingers on the table and gives a shrug. “It’s nothing personal…”

Shaking his head, he slides the photos back into the folder and attempts to mask the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Nothing to be ashamed of, love. I know how handsome I am, who wouldn’t want to take a photo?”

He smirks as her face hardens and her eyes narrow into slits. “Yeah, I’m surprised the picture didn’t cut off your big head.”

Leaning back, he snorts and shakes his head. Talking to her is fun… _too_ fun. He actually can’t remember the last time he had this much fun just _talking_ with a female, but then again, Emma Swan is a different creature.

Ruby walks up a moment later and places a brown bag down in front of him.

“Here you go, Killian. See you this weekend.”

Throwing her a wink, he responds, “Cheers, lass.” When she walks away, he turns to see Emma rolling her eyes. “Something the matter, Swan?”

“I’d like to finish my lunch now.”

“As you wish.” He starts to move and holds back his snort at her look of surprise. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

Walking out of the diner, he fails to notice the skip in his step and small smile on his face.

* * *

When Killian returns to his flat after work, he finds a plastic bag sitting on their dining room table that hadn’t been there when he left. The right side of his lips tug up when he finds the photos from earlier, now fitted in beautiful frames that match the ones Liam already has on their entertainment center in the living room.

His brow furrows when he finds only two photos, the one of himself replaced with a note inside.

**_Single shots go in my portfolio, though I don’t know if your big head will fit in it. If you want a copy let me know._ **

He snorts, shaking his head as he takes the new photos and places them on a shelf by the window.  His eyes flicker over to the picture that is front and center and almost smiles. He and Liam lost just about everything in the fire, all their belongings and cherished items from their childhood. The only thing they _were_ able to salvage was a photo of themselves from when they were young. It’s just barely staying together now; riddled with smoke and water damage, the corners are curling from the heat and the color is just about gone, yet Liam has it up front and center.

His brother was always the sentimental type.

Looking over the other pictures, he notices a lack of the pretty blonde. There are plenty of Liam with David and Mary Margaret, but the only photos Emma appears to be in are group ones, and even then she’s either hiding behind someone or off to the corner.

It doesn’t sit well with him, for a reason he’s not entirely sure of. She’s taken all this time and effort to preserve memories of her friends, but where are the memories of _her?_

There’s a knock at the door before it opens and David walks in. “Hey man,” he greets.

Giving his mate a nod, he keeps his eyes on the frames, particularly on Emma’s face.

David appears next to him, leaning forward to look at the pictures himself. “Oh, Emma dropped them off to you guys. That one of all of us is really good, don’t you think?”

“Aye, has she ever thought of doing it professionally?”

“We’ve all told her,” he sighs and turns to head toward the kitchen. “She can be very stubborn.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” he mumbles to himself before speaking louder. “Dave, have you taken notice that your sister rarely appears in these photos of hers?”

“Yeah, she always says she takes them, she’s not in them,” he calls out over his shoulder. “You guys want to do something for dinner? Mary Margaret and Emma went out with Jasmine so I’m on my own and I’m starving.”

Shaking his head, he puts Emma Swan and her photographs to the back of his mind.

“Aye, Liam’s still at work…I’ll phone him—”

David opens their fridge and mumbles, “Damn. I’m out of beer, too. Tell him to grab us a case.”

Dialing Liam, he brings the phone to his ear and lifts his eyebrow. “Since when do we all run out of libations?”

He’s even out of rum. He had meant to purchase some on his lunch break, but he was distracted by a beautiful Swan.

“I think Mary Margaret and Emma drank it all. You know, those two could probably drink us all under the table if they wanted.”

Killian snorts and mumbles just as Liam answers. “That wouldn’t surprise me. Oi, Liam.”

_“Aye?”_

“David’s popped by for a bite to eat. Pick something up, will you?”

“And a case of beer!”

“And a case of beer,” Killian adds. “And perhaps a bottle of rum…”

_“Bloody hell, would you two like for me to wipe your arses for you as well?”_

“No need to get tetchy,” he chuckles while David opens a cabinet and pulls out a bag of chips. “It’s all on your way.”

_“You can get your own rum, but I’ll get dinner and beer. Goodbye, Killian.”_

He rolls his eyes and stuffs his phone back in his pocket. “Wanker.”

“He won’t go get your rum, will he?” Killian grunts an answer, taking a handful of chips for himself as David points to the ceiling. “Emma probably has some if you want me to take a look.”

“Offering to break into your sister’s flat for a spot of rum? I never took you for a crooked cop, Sheriff.”

“It’s because I’m the sheriff I can do things like that,” he answers with a shrug. “Plus, she’s my sister, it wouldn’t be breaking in.”

“You older brothers don’t quite understand the concept of boundaries, do you?”

Holding his arms out to his sides, David scoffs, “What boundaries? There are none when you’re the younger sibling, you should know that better than anyone.”

“And it’s my duty as a fellow younger sibling to help others,” he leans forward and smacks David in his stomach before pointing at him. “Don’t break into your sister’s house. Give the lass some privacy, will you?”

David hunches forward, his chuckles coming out as puffs of air before he stands up and punches Killian in the arm. Chuckling, he gives David a light shove before taking another handful of chips.

It feels good to be able to jest with his friend. The fact they’ve spent most of their friendship apart, speaking only through video calls and text messages, has never hindered things for them, but Killian must admit having him around on a daily basis is far better. No longer does he have to worry about time differences or conflicting schedules. When he wants to tell his mate a story or ask for advice, he’s just a floor away.

The two men stand in the kitchen for a long while, talking about their days; David telling about Leroy’s outburst with Archie, and Killian telling about the tie rod he had to replace for Whale.

“How's the new job?” David asks him.

With a shrug, he runs his hand through his hair. “It’s alright. Gus is happy to take over more of the paperwork side and has been allowing me to take most of the appointments. He also doesn't mind my volunteering at the library so it switches it up a bit.”

“That’s good of you, Belle could use the extra help. I know Walter does but he tends to…”

“Fall asleep at the drop of a hat?”

Both men share a laugh before David nods. “You should have seen him at our wedding. It was ten minutes before someone realized he was still sitting in the seat after the ceremony.”

He had been invited to their wedding, was even asked to be a groomsman, but just before he was set to leave, the fire happened. He doesn’t even recall phoning his friend, just waking up one morning in the hospital to find David by his bedside.

“So how are you?” David asks, interrupting his thoughts. “We never had a chance to talk about the breakup.”

He had wondered how long it was going to take for him to ask about Milah. If he’s being honest, he’s surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. David was the one person that never spoke ill of their relationship, always telling him that as long as he was happy, he trusted his judgement.

He only wishes his judgement had been correct.

Killian leans back against the counter with a shrug. “You know me, Dave. I’m a survivor.”

“I know, but I also know she meant a lot to you.”

He starts to squirm and scratches at the back of his ear.

“It’s in the past. No need to bring it up now.” There’s a slight tremor in his voice, but he hopes David doesn’t pick up on it.

“I’m just saying, if you ever want to talk about it…I’m here.”

Folding his arms over his chest, he clears his throat and forces a smirk. “I’m fine, mate, truly. Hardly remember her.”

It’s a lie, but it’s one he’s told so many times that it rolls off his tongue with perfect ease. He just hopes one day he’ll actually believe it.

There’s a kick at the door followed by a voice, “Open up, you bloody gits.”

Liam stands outside in the hall with a case of beer in his hands and two boxes of pizza on top. David groans at the smell, snatching the pizzas for himself while Killian moves for the beer.

“Honestly?” Liam huffs. “No hello, thank you for providing dinner after a long day at work?”

David snorts, a slice of pizza already in his hands while Killian pulls out a bottle and twists the cap off, “What do we look like, your wives?”

“With the way I take care of you both, one wouldn’t be wrong to think so,” Liam grumbles, closing the door behind him and tossing his keys on the counter.

Killian leans back against the island, taking a long pull from his bottle before answering with, “That’s a sad tale for you then, mate.”

David barks out a laugh while Liam shakes his head. “Stop eating out of the box like scoundrels,” he growls and moves to grab them all plates. “Come, let’s sit at the table.”

Rolling his eyes, David takes a box and walks forward. “Sometimes, I swear, man, you’re worse than my wife.”

Killian chuckles as he moves to fetch them all a beer. It’s then he hears a beeping noise. Looking around, he spots Liam’s phone on the island and picks it up to give it to him when he catches the message on the screen.

**I’m free tomorrow, just let me know what time you want to meet. – E**

Blinking, he looks to where his brother and David sit with his jaw clenched. It’s a simple message, really, nothing that would make someone second-guess their relationship, but Killian knows better.

It’s not the first time he’s caught a hidden conversation between Liam and the Lady Swan; they’ve been whispering in corners and speaking on the phone when his brother believed he wasn’t around. He had planned on asking Liam about it, but he always stopped himself to avoid questions about _his_ personal life.

Though there was still something that didn’t feel…right. He knows they’ve all become close, perhaps he’s just overthinking things?

With his fingers tightening around the device, he takes the phone along with the bottles and walks to the table.

He places it in front of Liam and mumbles, “Your phone went off.”

Liam’s eyebrow ticks up before he takes the phone and looks down. From the corner of his eye, he studies his brother’s reaction, disappointed when there is none. He just types out a reply and places his phone back into his pocket, giving nothing away.

Perhaps he _is_ overthinking things. They are all friends, and friends text each other all the time…at least that’s what he tells himself for the rest of the night.

The next day at work is a bit slow, so he decides to pop by the docks to see if Liam wished to fetch a bite to eat when he spots Emma standing by the barn, her camera held up to her face as she takes a picture of something in the distance. His lips tug up, and he’s about to call out to her when Liam appears.

Stopping in his tracks, he watches as his brother approaches the blonde, his hand going to her shoulder before she turns. Without thinking, Killian moves to hide behind some boxes stacked up against the wall to watch them. He grinds his teeth when Liam kisses her on the cheek and pays close attention to the hand his brother places on her elbow.

They are too far away for him to hear what is being said, but Emma motions to the building and begins to walk before Liam stops her, making her shake her head in annoyance. A moment later she’s grinning at him, and he thinks he sees Liam blush before he walks off, Emma’s laugh echoing in the wind as she follows.

Killian steps back once they disappear and rests his forehead on the wall. Now more than ever he’s convinced that there is something going on between his brother and Emma and it makes his stomach knot.

Why is Liam keeping this from him? Has him moving to Storybrooke put a hindrance on their relationship? Or does Liam just not wish for his own toxic love life to sully whatever it is that they have?

Letting out a huff, he pushes himself away from the wall and decides to head back, vowing then to leave his childish game with Emma behind and be the utmost gentleman when speaking with her, even if seeing her all flustered and aggravated is one of his favorite things.

Because she’s Liam’s… _whatever_.

He thinks back to all the times they have spoken. He wants to be cross with her for not saying anything, for allowing him to flirt with her in such a way, but he understands. If Liam asked her not to say anything to him, what else could she do?

She obviously cares for Liam and that’s a good thing.

It really shouldn’t surprise him, though. His brother is a good man, someone who is more than worthy to have a woman such as Emma for his partner.

He just doesn’t understand why it’s bothering him so much.

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

Emma lets out a frustrated groan and pushes her laptop away. She’s been working on the picture for two hours and refuses to print it until it’s absolutely perfect, even if she did promise Liam she would have it by the party.

Letting out a sigh, she decides to walk away for a minute and clear her head. She lifts her arms above her and moans slightly when her bones crack. Hunching over a laptop for hours isn’t good for posture, who knew?

When she steps out onto her fire escape, she smiles with ease. The sun has just set and the moon is high enough in the sky that she doesn’t need to turn on the lights she has wrapped around the edge. Sitting down in her chair, she brings her legs up and stares out into the night. The sound of kids playing echoes through the air and the faint smell of a barbeque makes her shake her head.

It’s rare they get _hot_ days in Storybrooke, but at the first sight of nice weather the people in town liked to take advantage of it, acting like a seventy-degree day is beach worthy. She can’t really say too much against it, though. She’s already stored her winter coats and long sleeve shirts away, almost like she’s forcing the warm weather to stay.

Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears a window open from below. Looking down, she sees Killian emerge with a cigarette hanging from his lips and a bottle of rum in his hand. She watches as he places the bottle on the ground and lights his cigarette before sitting in his chair.

For a reason she’s not quite sure of, she doesn’t make herself known; she just watches him. She thinks about what happened at the diner a few days ago, how they were on the verge of having a normal conversation, one that made her think they could finally become friends, and then he suddenly became closed off—almost mean—and turned back into the cocky person she first met.

It doesn’t make sense, really. She can tell that’s not who he really is, she’s seen the look in his eyes when he thinks no one is looking, the one that screams pain and hurt. He’s hiding from something, she just doesn’t know what from.

Pressing her lips together, she plants her elbows on her knees and leans over to call out to him, “You know those things will kill you.”

He doesn’t jump at her voice, doesn’t even flinch or look up.

“Aye,” he answers before taking another drag. “So will a lot of things.”

Without thinking, she walks down until she’s sitting before him on the steps. “Did you know I was up there?”

“I did,” he mumbles with a slight nod.

Her eyebrow goes up. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“Did I upset you, love?” His lips turn up into a wolfish smile. “Were you wishing for me to join you?”

She clenches her jaw. “No.”

“You sure about that?” He smirks.

“Why do you _insist_ on pissing me off?” She snaps. “You don’t even know me, yet it’s like you’re making it your life mission to irritate me. Do you hate me that much?”

“Actually, I quite fancy you from time to time…when you’re not yelling at me,” he answers with a shrug.

She stares at him blankly, shaking her head when he gives her another smirk.

“Here’s the thing, I get what you’re doing. I understand it.” He arches an eyebrow at her words and she continues. “Look out for yourself and you’ll never get hurt.”

“Worked quite well for me.”

His jaw ticks in the way it did at the diner when his ex was mentioned and she almost smirks.

He has a tell.

“You’re lying.”

The bottle stops inches away from his face and he blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Something happened back in London,” she states, watching his entire body go tense. “What aren’t you telling everyone?”

It’s a few seconds before he takes a gulp and answers, “Nothing. That’s my tale, and I’m sticking to it.”

He turns to look out toward the street and takes another drag of his cigarette, jaw ticking away.

“Still don’t believe you.”

With a dry chuckle, he shrugs. “Well, let’s leave it at that.”

They stay silent for a couple seconds and her irritation grows. Letting out a deep breath, she shakes her head and moves to stand. “I can’t do this anymore. I told Liam I would try but—”

“Do you fancy my brother?” he asks, completely cutting her off.

“What?” she breathes out in disbelief.

His jaw clenches and the smoke blows out from his nose. “Are you two together?”

“No,” she answers quickly, her voice dripping with offense and somewhat disgust. “He’s like my brother. Why would you think that?”

He scratches at his scruff and she sees him sag in what seems to be relief.

“You two seem rather…,” he makes a circle motion in the air, “ _close_.”

Her lips press together and she squares her shoulders. “You and Mary Margaret seem _close_ …do you fancy her?”

His eyes move over her face as his lips lift into a smile.

“Point taken.”

Silence once again falls between them, and she’s not sure why she isn’t leaving. There’s just something about him that reminds her of herself at a time in her life she tries not to think about. The way his eyes darken whenever London is mentioned and the way he absolutely refuses to discuss what happened between him and his ex…

Shaking her head, she rids herself of bad memories and looks him over.

She can’t help but watch the way he smokes. It’s almost… _arousing_ ; the way his lips curl of the end of it, the way he’ll exhale through his nostrils while nibbling on his bottom lip...the same bottom lip that has her wondering what it would be like to nibble herself.

He surprises her when he leans forward to offer the bottle, and it snaps her out of her thoughts.

With mumbled thanks, she brings it to her lips as he takes one long drag from his cigarette before holding it over the ledge, using his fingers to squeeze the cherry out. Once it’s no longer lit, he pulls the pack out of his pocket and puts the used butt inside.

“Do you always do that?” When he gives her a look in question, she motions to his pocket. “Put your used cigarettes back in the pack.”

“Liam isn’t too fond of it,” he replies with a shrug. “I keep them in the pack until the bin men come about.”

“Why not just quit?”

He leans forward when she holds out the bottle. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you only smoke one or two a day.” When he tilts his head, she motions to him again. “The pack you have isn’t even half empty and you bought it at the beginning of the week.”

His eyes move over her face with a soft smile on his lips. “You’re quite observant, aren’t you?”

Taking the bottle from him again, she swallows down another gulp and shrugs. “I’m a private investigator, it’s sort of my job.”

“A private investigator?”

The tone of his voice makes her become defensive. It’s not the first time a male has balked at her job, their minds instantly going to the question of how a woman could be a private investigator.

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No. I think it suites you.”

“Because you know so much about me?”

Giving a smirk that creases his cheeks, he leans forward and says, “I hate to break it to you, Swan, but you’re something of an open book, easy for me to read.”

“Am I?”

“Quite. Let’s see—you say it’s a hobby that you take photographs, and I’m sure it is, but there’s more to it than that. You’re cataloging memories for yourself, of the place you call home and the people you care for. It’s why you always have your camera with you, and it’s why there are hardly any pictures of yourself.” She swallows at his words, her throat suddenly dry. “You don’t want to forget a moment with your loved ones, but it doesn’t ever cross your mind that they might want the same for you, because love has been all too rare in your life and the thought of people wanting to remember you boggles your mind.”

She keeps her voice blank. “Is that so?”

“Aye,” he answers, shifting slightly in his seat. “It’s also why you spend so much time out on your balcony. Though you’ll climb down if you hear your brother and his wife moving about, you mostly like to stay by yourself, which tells me you enjoy your alone time.”

“Maybe I just like staring at the tops of buildings,” she counters, hoping he doesn’t notice her trying to change the subject.

But the way his head tilts tells her he knows exactly what she’s doing. No one in her life has ever been able to read her like that; they’ve always believed whatever she told them, never questioned her for a second. Then Killian Jones figures out what she’s been doing for _years_ in just about a few week's time.

And it scares her a little.

“Would you like to see them?”

His eyebrow ticks up but apparently he doesn’t have to be asked twice because he’s moving to follow her up the fire escape as soon as she stands.

“These are a lot more stable than I thought they would be.”

She snorts and nods. “Yeah, David checks on them once a week since he knows I’m out here all the time.” When they make it to her balcony, she waves her arm out to the sky. “Behold, the lovely building tops.”

“That is a stunning view of the sea,” he murmurs. “There’s no sight like a full moon on the waves.”

She gazes at him as he takes in the sight, her brow furrowing because he looks almost…sad. It wasn’t what she expected at all, and for a moment she thinks she’s done something wrong. After a few seconds pass in silence, she’s about to ask him if everything’s alright when he finally speaks.

“Would it be alright if I sat here for a while?” His voice is hesitant as his eyes flicker back to her. “It’s such a calming sight.”

“Sure.”

They stay there well into the night, just staring out at the sky and sharing his bottle of rum. They don’t speak and she’s okay with that. The silence is nice; it’s not uncomfortable or awkward, and when he leaves, it’s with a nod and a mumbled goodnight.

She goes inside when he’s gone, ignoring the way it almost hurt to see his back as he walked away.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @yeahiliketheredleatherjacket is an angel who not only edits, leaves me little comments that make me giggle
> 
> @thesschesthair and her amazing banner making skills is only one of the many reasons I love her so much
> 
> Double line breaks mean change of POV

**Chapter Five**

Emma spends longer than she probably should thinking about what happened with Killian. For a few hours, he hadn’t annoyed her and made an effort to be a… _person_ , but what really confused her was how normal it all felt, and honestly, she’s not sure why she’s surprised.

With the exception of when they first met, her and Liam have gotten extremely close…but there’s something different with Killian. He didn’t try to force conversation, didn’t chastise her for wanting the quiet. He was simply _there_.

Shaking her head, she scolds herself for getting lost in her thoughts of the latest Jones brother again and moves to leave for the party.

It’s still chilly out, so she decides on boots and tights to go along with her dress. It has a black skirt and white stripes on top, her hair has a slight curl to it, and she pretends she didn’t spend extra time to make sure her wingtip was perfect.

Grabbing the container off the counter, she climbs out of her window and heads down to her brother’s loft. She can already hear the music playing and the voices coming from inside and rolls her eyes because of course she’s late.

The window is closed when she gets there and she hesitates when she sees Killian sitting in front of it. She has a feeling he’s not sitting there by accident and part of her wants to turn around and go back upstairs, but that would be childish.  

Taking a deep breath, she lifts her hand and knocks on the glass.

He turns with the bottle to his lips, and gives her a smile before placing his beer down and opening the window.

“Swan.”

She pushes the container forward, forcing him to grab it and mumbles, “Hope you like cookies.”

Lifting her leg, she swings it into the apartment just as he offers his hand. She hesitates for a second, staring in disbelief before taking it and allowing him to help her, ignoring the way her fingers tingle when his skin touches hers.

“What, now you’re a gentleman?”

He’s wearing dark jeans, a leather waistcoat, and a navy-blue button down underneath.

_Fuck, he can put an outfit together._

“I’m always a gentleman,” he smirks and she can’t help but let out a little laugh. Letting go of his hand, she brushes her hands down the front of her dress while he looks her up and down. “You look beautiful, Swan.”

She blinks twice in surprise before murmuring, “Th-thank you.”

Her gaze moves around the apartment to see a good amount of people are already there and she’s hoping that maybe her tardiness will go unnoticed.

“Did you make these?”

Killian has the lid off the container she handed him and he’s looking at the cookies with an arched eyebrow.

“Cookies are about the only thing I _can_ make,” she says with a shrug. “It’s what I bring to parties.”

He motions in question and she nods, folding her arms across her chest while he takes a cookie and brings it to his lips. He takes a bite, chews for a second, before his eyes snap up to hers.

“Swan, I believe these are the best bloody cookies I’ve ever had.”

She blushes and shakes her head. “You better not say that out loud. David and your brother tend to—”

“Did you say cookies?!”

They both look over to see David walking toward them. She opens her mouth to remind David to share when Killian suddenly holds them in the air and hides behind her.

“Oi, back off!”

“Seriously?” She huffs in irritation.

Her brother attempts to go around her, but Killian places his hand on her hip and wards him off. “Swan said so herself, she made them for me, mate.”

“I—”

“Like hell! She’s my sister, hand them over, Jones!” David growls as he tries to reach over her to get the container.  

Her body is juggled around as the two grown men argue over whose cookies they are until she’s finally able to push her way out from in-between them. She’s watching them run off when Liam and Mary Margaret approach.

“What is going on?” Her sister-in-law gasps.

“Um, well, I made my cookies and—”

“You made cookies?” Liam cuts her off.

Before she can answer, he runs toward David and Killian, yelling at them that he’s the oldest so he deserves the cookies first.

“I swear they are children in adult bodies,” Mary Margaret grumbles.

“You think I should tell them there’s a whole batch upstairs?” Emma asks.

“No, because then they’ll just be fighting in your apartment.”

Waving to everyone, she walks to the kitchen to grab herself a beer while Mary Margaret yells at the men to stop. Emma snorts and shakes her head to herself, not understanding why her sister-in-law even attempts to reign them in. Normally, it’s herself and David that are the ones acting like children while Liam and Mary Margaret give them stern looks, but it seems Killian brings out the child in Liam because the three of them are _much_ worse than her and David have ever been.

There is no hope of reining them in.

“He is good looking.”

“Well, have you _seen_ Liam?”

Emma looks up to see Ruby, Dorothy and Ashley standing in the corner of the kitchen watching the scene before them: David with his arm wrapped around Killian’s neck while he kicks at Liam to back off.

“Emma, weigh in on this, will you?” Ruby asks with a smirk. “The youngest Jones…what do you think?”

“What do you mean, what do I think?”

Ashley and Dorothy chuckle while Ruby rolls her eyes. “The fact that Killian’s a grade-A hottie with a bad boy edge.”

She nearly chokes on her beer, a dribble of liquid falling down her chin.

“ _This_ is what you guys are talking about?”’

“Come on, Emma,” Ashley says with a smile and motion of her head. “Even you can admit he’s attractive.”

Her mouth opens and closes a couple times as her eyes flicker back over to the living room. Yes, he’s attractive, he’s been the star of her dreams the past three nights—a fact she won’t be telling anyone—but she’s not going to admit it. Once she says it out loud, it’ll make it _real_ , and she has a feeling that anything being _real_ with Killian Jones will be her undoing.

“That’s it!” They all look to see Mary Margaret snatch the container out of Liam’s hand. “You are acting like damn children! Now none of you get any.” The three men start to argue, but when she lifts her finger in the air, they stop almost instantly.

Emma bites her lip at how ridiculous they look. She half expects them to call Mary Margaret _mom_ and apologize, but they just keep quiet as she storms off into the other room, grumbling something about stupid men and idiots.

Killian walks into the kitchen and the three women scurry off, giggling as they look back at him. There’s a hint of sweat on his brow and he bends forward, placing his hands on his knees and breathing as if he’s just run a mile.

“Bloody hell,” he pants out. “David nearly bit my hand off to get that bleeding container.”

“I tried to tell you not to say it too loudly. I only make my cookies on rare occasions and that’s why.”

Standing up fully, he throws her a smirk and steps forward. “So you _did_ make them for me.”

“I made them for the party,” she lies, not wanting to admit it to him—let alone herself—that she did in fact make them with him in mind.

He presses his lips together and does the head tilt thing again, but she just gives him a closed mouth grin and drinks from her bottle. When she doesn’t say anything, he nods ever so slightly before moving to the fridge.

“It seems I’ll just have to prepare myself for the next time you make those _heavenly_ —” he practically moans the word and her throat suddenly dries. “—treats. Will you protect me?”

Her lips twitch as she tries to cover her smile. “Probably not.”

“Ooof,” he chuckles out with a breath, his hand moving to cover his heart. “That hurts, Swan.”

“The truth usually does,” she answers with her face scrunched and a shrug.

He throws his head back in a loud laugh and it makes her smile.

“You should laugh more often,” she finds herself saying, her cheeks warming when it registers that she’s said it out loud.

He surprises her yet again when instead of his usual swagger and innuendo, he simply tips his head to her and mumbles, “As you wish.”

* * *

Emma still remembers what it was like meeting everyone for the first time. She was sixteen, and Ruth had just adopted her. It was overwhelming and all she really wanted to do was sit in the corner and be left alone, but wanting to make a good impression in fear Ruth would send her back, she plastered on a fake smile and forced herself to be sociable.

She still struggles with it even now. Even though she’s come to care for and trust the people she’s met so long ago, old habits die hard.

And Killian Jones is no different.

To any other onlooker, it would appear he’s having a great time. He’s laughing and smiling at the right times and even flirting with, well, _everyone_ , but she knows better.

The way his jaw tightens when someone asks him what it’s like living with his older brother, the way he changes the subject if they ask something he deems too personal, and the way his eyes flash with a hint of sadness when he’s asked about London...

He’s being sociable but it’s killing him inside, so she keeps herself available to him. Whenever she thinks he might need a break, she calls him away for something she doesn’t necessarily need him for.

_“Hey, Jones, come check out this picture I took.”_

_“Want to see the new kitchen towels Mary Margaret and I bought earlier this week?”_

The last time she actually walked up and used the excuse, _“Come see…things.”_

That one earned her a few odd looks, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. To give him credit, he never once questioned her interruptions and always followed her with a soft sigh of relief.

She really needs a good one this time because he’s talking with Ruby and Dorothy and she can tell he’s looking for a way out.

“What about back in London, was there a lucky lady?” Dorothy asks, completely unaware of what she’s truly asking.

He goes stiff for half a second before he slaps on his famous smirk and spouts a lie so obvious she can see it from a mile away.

She begins to approach, her eyes scanning the room for an excuse until she spots one in the corner. Part of her feels guilty, she promised herself she wouldn’t say anything but she has a feeling she can trust him.

“Hey,” she greets them with a smile. “Can I borrow Jones?”

Ruby raises her brow while Emma’s furrows. There’s something weird about the way she’s looking at her, and she’s about to comment when Dorothy waves at them.

“Of course. Come on, babe, let’s have Whale make us some shots.”

She continues to stare as the two girls walk off and Ruby gives her a wink.

“Wh—”

“Everything alright, love?”

Shaking her head, she scrunches her face together and nods, “Yeah, just Ruby was…never mind.” Turning back to him, she takes a step forward. “I’ve decided to let you in on a little secret of mine, but _only_ if you promise not to tell a living soul.”

“Now you have me intrigued.” His eyes sparkle and he moves even closer, the smell of his cologne invading her senses. “What is this secret?”

“Mmmno. You have to promise first.”

He places his hand over his heart and bows his head. “On my honor.”

Biting her bottom lip, she takes hold of his elbow and pulls him into the corner of the room. “Remember how you thought Liam and I were together?”

“Aye?” His eyes widen slightly. “Don’t tell me you were lying.”

“What? No!” She cries out before smacking him in the chest. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

His entire body relaxes and he reaches up to scratch at the back of his ear, a tick she’s noticed he does when he’s nervous, as he chuckles.

“What is this secret then?”

Her eyes flicker over to the other side of the room, voice lowering to a whisper. “There _is_ someone that your brother likes, even if he won’t admit it.”

“ _Is_ there indeed?” He asks with a large smile. “Well, I like this tale already!”

He looks way too excited for his own good and she struggles to hide her smile. Motioning with her head, she whispers, “Take a look.”

She’s mildly surprised when he doesn’t look right away, instead lifting his beer to his lips to make it more natural and when he spots them, he freezes. It’s really not noticeable, they are just _talking_ , but their body language speaks volumes.

“Lady Belle?” he turns back with a whisper.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice, or were you too busy thinking me and him were together?”

He throws her a slight glare before giving the couple another glance. If she’s being honest, they are adorable. The way Belle looks down at her feet as Liam rubs the back of his neck, a shy smile on his face, always makes her want to reach for her camera.

“Now that I think about it…,” his lips tug up, “There is a certain… _way_ about him whenever her name appears in conversation.”

“I tried to bring it up once and he nearly bit my head off. Something about bad form or whatever—but _no one_ knows, not David and especially not Mary Margaret.”

He snorts and leans so his elbow is against the wall. “Why is that, Swan? Because your dearly beloved sister-in-law would keep it to herself for about four seconds?” Her brows rise in surprise and he gives a short laugh. “When they came to visit in London, I planned a surprise trip out on the waves. She happened to walk in while I was on the phone and not five minutes later, David knew all about it.”

She laughs harder than she probably should, the alcohol making her feel tingly—not because if she moved an inch closer, she would be able to feel his breath on her face.

“I tried to throw a surprise party for his twenty-fifth birthday and asked her to help me. The day of the party _he_ was helping us decorate.”

They share a laugh and she finds herself leaning back against the wall, her shoulder just barely brushing his chest.

“She’s a sweet lass, though,” he mumbles, his eyes looking toward his friend and his wife. “Perfect for David.”

She smiles because it’s true, and because Killian really does know her brother. She used to ask David how it was possible to keep such a good friendship when they lived worlds apart, and he would always just laugh and shake his head.

_“Killian and I…it’s just easy for us. We can go months without speaking, but once we do, we always fall back into the same routine. He’s my closest friend.”_

“Yes, and I think Belle and Liam would be cute together, but your brother can be so pigheaded sometimes…”

He snorts, pulling the bottle away from his lips. “That I am very much aware of, but what’s holding him back?”

“When he first moved here, Belle was going through a nasty divorce—”

“Ah,” he starts, cutting her off. “He believes it would be bad form to court a lady while she’s on the mend.”

She shakes her head, her voice dripping with more bark than she intends. “That’s not his decision to make. If Belle believes she’s ready to move on, who is he to decide that she isn’t?”

Her hand tightens around her bottle and she forces herself not to react. It’s really gets on her nerves when other people believe they can make decisions for someone else. Neal used to do that to her; he believed she was too young to handle things, to _know_ things, to understand…

She jumps when she feels the brush of his fingers on her arm.

“I assure you he only has her best interests at heart, love. If anything, it means Liam cares for her very deeply.” His voice is low, soothing in a way, and guilt washes over her.

She knows Liam has nothing but good intentions, he’s too kind to ever do anything to harm Belle or anyone else, it was just old demons coming back to haunt her. She gives a tight nod with a forced smile and looks down.

They are silent for a few moments before he asks, “Who was he?”

Her head snaps up. “Who?”

“The man who made a decision for you.” Her brow furrows and he half smiles. “Open book, Swan.”

Clenching her jaw, she looks away from him again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She can feel his eyes on her, but she just takes another drink and taps her foot. David and Mary Margaret know not to bring up Neal, and she assumes Liam knows the same, if he even knows at all. She really doesn’t care; it’s in her past and is something she doesn’t need to think about. No matter how often it tries to creep its way back in.

There’s a clink against her bottle before he says, “To forgetting.”

His eyes are clouded over, almost like his own past ghosts are trying to break free, and she sucks in a breath because she’s seen that look before, every time she looks in the mirror.

For years she’s been surrounded by people who don’t understand what it’s like to not want to talk about things, to want to just forget about all the horrible things that have happened to her and move on with her life. Mary Margaret still insists that if she just opens herself up, love will be out there, but she’s had her walls up since she was seventeen. She’s comfortable with them, and it’s nice to finally have someone understand that.

A puff of air passes her lips before she lifts her beer in salute. “To forgetting.”

She watches his adam's apple bob as he swallows, his tongue poking out to lick the excess liquid from his lips. His rings clink against the bottle and she rolls her shoulders.

“We should probably go mingle.”

“Aye,” he agrees, his thumb wiping at the corners of his lips. “I’ll fetch us some new drinks.”

He takes her empty bottle and walks off without another word. She’s grateful for the moment alone, to swallow down the harshness of the memories from her past and seal the crack Killian seems to have made in her perfectly formed wall.

“You and Killian seem to be getting along better,” David comments to her as she sits on the empty love seat.

She shrugs, picking an invisible piece of lint off her tights. “Is that a crime?”

David chuckles, “Yes, Emma. My best friend and my sister getting along would be a crime because in no _way_ would it make my life easier.”

She laughs with her brother just as Killian appears.

“Speaking of me, are you?” he asks with a smirk while handing her the fresh bottle.

He sits next to her, the size of the couch causing his thigh to rub against her own but she pretends not to notice.

“Actually, we were,” she replies with a motion to her brother. “David and I were just wondering how much extra money you have to spend for hair products since your head's so big.”

Her brother nearly chokes on his beer while Killian pretends to look offended.

“This—” He motions to his hair, “—is all natural, love. The hair products that are in our flat belong to my dear brother.”

“Oi!” Liam hollers out, making everyone laugh.

“Honestly,” Killian laughs. “He’s got the fluffiest hair I’ve ever seen. Have a feel, Belle.”

Liam’s face turns bright red, and Emma lifts her hand to hide her smile.

“No,” Belle blushes, shaking head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Oh, don’t stick up for him, Belle,” Emma says with a wave of her hand. “We all know the _littlest_ Jones is just trying to save face.”

Killian scoffs and turns to her. “I swear on my honor.”

Giving a slight shrug, she shakes her head. “Still don’t believe you.”

His mouth drops before he looks over at Belle. “Lass, please spare me this insult to my honor, I beg you.”

Everyone in the room encourages Belle to feel Liam’s hair and when she lifts her hand, Emma knocks her knee against Killian’s in silent triumph.

Liam and Belle blush as they all cheer, Emma softly gasping when she feels Killian’s breath at her ear.

“We do make quite the team, don’t we?”

Taking another pull from her bottle, she bites her lip to cover her smile because it seems he may be right.

* * *

* * *

Killian closes the bathroom door, leaning his forehead against it as he willed his erection to go away.

It seems the more Emma drinks, the _friendlier_ she gets. She kept placing her hand on his shoulder or knee when moving forward, leaning over his lap to say something to the other guests and it was slowly driving him mad. He noticed it before when the lot of them would get together--she’d sit on her brother’s lap as they played a board game or rest her head on Liam’s shoulder when she became tired.

He wasn’t too fond of those moments in particular.

It had happened without thinking, him asking about her relationship with Liam. The words were out of his mouth before he even registered what was happening. He truly did intend to stick to his vow of waiting until he was told, but he couldn’t help but irritate her. Then she mentioned his brother’s name and he _had_ to know.

Looking back, he realizes how foolish it all was. Anyone with eyes could see his brother cared for the lass like one would care for a sister.

He only wishes his own feelings were the same.

Taking a deep breath, he wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and turns to rest his back against the door. He’s attracted to her, that much is obvious. She’s breathtakingly beautiful and has been invading his dreams more than he cares to admit. Just the night before he couldn’t get the vision of her lips wrapping around the bottle out of his head, so he took himself in hand, picturing her lips wrapping around his manhood instead.

But there’s more to her than that. Just earlier when she pulled him away to speak, she grabbed his left hand. He assumed it was a mistake, done without thinking, but then she did it again--even held onto it as she pulled him away. He couldn’t believe it, stunned into silence for a few moments until she started speaking. The only person that has touched his hand since the fire has been Liam.

Milah hadn’t even…

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, forcing himself not to think of her and instead try to figure out the creature that is Emma Swan.

_“I dare say you two are a lot alike.”_

Liam’s words repeat in his head. He wasn’t wrong; they _are_ a lot alike, their conversation earlier giving him the proof to believe it. She’d let her perfectly formed wall slip for half a second, and he caught a glimpse of the pain she hid—so similar to his own that all he wanted to do was fetch a bottom of rum and take her out onto her balcony to gaze at the moon on the waves, to give them both a chance to let their masks fall away and just wallow.

But she doesn’t know him well enough yet for that to happen, and he fears if he tries to push her too hard she’ll just build her wall higher and hate him for it.

And heavens above he does _not_ want her to hate him.

There’s a knock on the door, making him jump slightly before he opens it to find Emma standing there, her brows up and eyes glassy from alcohol.

Sucking in a breath, he puts on the smirk he’s mastered and leans against the door frame. “Coming to check up on me, Swan?”

She snorts. “Actually, I was just looking to use the bathroom.”

“Oh,” his cheeks tint and he reaches up to scratch the back of his ear. “Apologies.”

He steps aside, closing his eyes as the smell of her perfume—or just her, he’s not entirely sure—washes over him. Her hair brushes the tip of his nose and he fights the urge to bury his face in it.

He stumbles back as the door closes, cursing to himself for acting like a blubbering idiot before turning to head back toward the dining room.

“Killian?” He looks up to see Liam approaching him with a folder in his hand. “A moment?”

“Everything alright?”

“Aye,” Liam nods, his gaze moving down to the folder in his hand. “I, uh, well, I wanted to give you something, but I didn’t want to do it in front of everyone.”

“What is it?”

Liam taps the folder against his open palm as a puff of air passes his lips. “I’d have waited until later but Heaven knows what we’ll all be like by then and well…” He shakes his head and pushes it forward. “Here.”

His interest peaked, he takes it... It’s not usual for him to see his brother so nervous. It’s quite…comforting; Liam has always held himself up in such high regard that it’s nice to see him be the one that is fumbling.

Opening the folder, his gaze moves down and his lips part. Inside is the one and only picture they have of themselves from when they were young, only it’s not torn or faded as it was before. It’s completely restored and looks almost brand new.

“How—”

“Can you believe it?” Liam moves next to him to gaze at the photo. “It’s as if it’s been preserved for all these years.”

The words get caught in his throat as he stares. He doesn’t recall the photo being taken, he was only around five at the time, Liam ten, but he does remember how he used to gaze upon it when they were in the orphanage. He used to tell himself that, at least for a brief moment in their lives, they had been happy, and it had given him hope that they could be that way again...

Looking at the photo now, it seemed that with its restored colors, came its restored hope.

Tears prick the back of his eyes before he moves to pull Liam in for an embrace.

“Thank you, brother.” Liam pats him on the back, holding him a moment longer before he pulls back and Killian asks, “How were able to do this?”

“It was all Emma.” His head snaps up and Liam chuckles. “I’m serious. I had shown her the photograph, and she told me she could fix it.”

“Is that why you two have been meeting behind my back?”

Liam laughs, shaking his head. “She told me you were going to figure it out, but I wanted it to be a surprise.” The chuckle that escapes from the back of his throat is breathless and dry. _Of course_ his brother wouldn’t hide something as important as a relationship from him, he doesn’t know what he was thinking. “She’s quite talented, isn’t she?”

“Bloody brilliant,” he mumbles, eyes moving back over the photo again.

Before either can say anything more, the bathroom door opens and out walks Emma, who stops as soon as she sees them.

“Everything alright?” Her voice is low, but he can tell it’s laced with concern.

“Fantastic,” Liam answers, giving Killian another pat on the back. “I’ve just given Killian the photo you restored for us.”

“Oh!” She gasps in surprise, her cheeks tinting ever so slightly. “Yeah, I mean, it wasn’t a big deal or anything. I tried my best…”

Liam scoffs and waves his hand. “Emma, it’s amazing. Tell her, Killian.”

Her eyes move back and forth and her tongue pokes out to wet her bottom lip. She’s nervous, but she’s attempting to mask it with nonchalance.

“It’s wonderful, love. Thank you.”

She answers with a small smile and starts to fiddle with the ring on her thumb. He wants to hug her, to express the gratitude he truly feels, but they aren’t quite there yet. Instead, Liam is the one that leans forward and presses his lips to her cheek, making Killian go stiff.

He believes Emma when she says there is nothing going on between them, her face when he asked her was enough to prove that he was completely wrong in his assumption.

But does he have to bloody _kiss_ her?

Emma pushes him away with a smile and a small giggle while Liam says, “I told you, lass. It’s brilliant.”

“I’m lucky most of the color was still intact, it was easy to clone.” Her hands move to rub up and down her arms. “Plus you guys were really adorable.” Killian looks down as Liam chuckles. “What _happened_?”

Liam scoffs before he reaches out, throwing his arm around Emma’s shoulders as he pokes her in the side. Killian follows them back into the party with a small smile spread across his lips and a flickering of hope in his heart.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April is an angel who is completely gross and edits all all of this. thank you <3  
> Mandy is amazing and so wonderful for making this jaw dropping banner!  
> this is one of my favorite chapters. i hope you guys enjoy it. double line breaks mean change of POV

**Chapter Six**

“I told David that if he wants to cook, he has to bring his own grill. The last time we went, Robin said he didn’t clean up enough. Whatever that means.”

Emma snorts as she picks up a box of crackers and throws them into the cart. “Robin said that?”

Mary Margaret shrugs and pushes the cart forward. “Yup.”

Shaking her head, she ignores her blatant lie and asks, “How long is she gone for this time?”

“Just the weekend,” she tells her as they round the corner. “They’ll be back Monday morning.”

“Hopefully the weather holds up.”

Her sister-in-law nods while she reads the label on a salsa dip. “It’s supposed to be warm all weekend, so I think we’ll be okay.”

Before she can comment, she feels her phone vibrate and pulls it from her pocket. There’s a picture of a very manly thigh wearing what looks like blue swim trunks with white anchors on them and a message attached.

**You approve? – K**

A smile tugs at her lips as she types back.

**If I said I didn’t, would you return them? – E**

**No. – K**

**Liar. – E**

**Bloody hell, Swan, you’re impossible. – K**

**And you love me for it. – E**

**Perhaps. – K**

She giggles and goes to type back her reply when Mary Margaret asks, “Do we have any onions back at home?”

“Um,” Emma racks her brain for a few seconds. “I don’t know, I’ll ask.”

**Hey, can you tell me if we have any onions? Mar wants to make guacamole for tonight. – E**

“Who are you texting?”

“Hm?” She looks up to see Mary Margaret staring at her with her eyebrows raised. “Oh. Killian.”

**We do not have any onions. Are you making cookies? – K**

“We don’t have any onions,” Emma tells her while she types.

**I just made you your own batch last weekend, don’t tell me you ate them all. – E**

**Liam found them and ate them on me. – K**

**Liar. – E**

**Swwwwaaaannnnnn. – K**

She almost bumps into someone and lets out a gasp, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

The elderly woman smiles warmly before she continues down her path, and Emma moves to find Mary Margaret looking at her in amusement. Her cheeks tint and she gives him a quick reply before stuffing her phone back into her shorts.

It takes her sister-in-law three whole minutes before she finally says, “You and Killian seem to be spending a lot of time together.”

She doesn’t answer right away because she’s not exactly sure _what_ to say. Killian has lived with them for six weeks, and though in the beginning things weren’t ideal between them, they’ve changed. They’ve become sort of…close.

There was the time it was Killian’s turn to food shop, and it turned into them all shouting the things they want like it always does, and she begged for Pop Tarts, because she’s a fucking adult who likes Pop Tarts. But Liam and Mary Margaret stepped in, like they _always_ do, and said Pop Tarts were for children while her brother conveniently had to leave early for work. Sometimes she thinks Liam and Mary Margaret should be the ones that are married since they love to act like the parents of the group. She huffed and told them it didn’t matter what they bought and stayed in her apartment until it was time to unload the groceries. To her complete surprise, Killian tossed her a box of cherry Pop Tarts when the others weren’t looking with a wink and a finger to his lips.

Her Pop Tarts never tasted so good.

Then there was the time they all had dinner at Mary Margaret and David’s and stuck around to watch a movie. He sat down next to her on the couch, propping his feet up on the table. She thought he was going to mess with her, but instead he offered his bowl of popcorn and whispered his own commentary, making her laugh out loud a couple times while everyone gave her dirty looks.

It’s rare a day goes by that they don’t speak, whether in person or through text, and they spend just about every night out on her balcony, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in silence while she takes pictures and he reads.

When she isn’t working her side job of being the towns personal photographer, she’ll visit him at the library, sitting on the table with her legs crossed while he shelves books back in their places. He often suggests something new for her to read or tells her stories from when he and Liam were younger.

She can’t quite explain it, but they just seem to _get_ each other. There are days where the demons from her past will somehow peek over the wall she’s built and she finds herself unable to fight them off, but then Killian will show up with a bottle of rum and by the end of the night, she’ll be pleasantly buzzed, completely forgetting about whatever it was that was haunting her.

Then there are the days she just _knows_ he’s the one struggling, so she’ll bake a special batch of cookies just for him because it makes him smile and she’ll attempt to be funny. He always ends up laughing, but she’s sure it’s only so she doesn’t feel bad.

“Um, yeah,” she replies with a shrug. “Is that a bad thing?”

Shaking her head, Mary Margaret pushes the cart down the aisle and answers quickly, “No! Of course not. I’m glad you two are friends.”

A small smile appears on her face and she mumbles, “Me too.”

* * *

By the time they pull up to their building, David and Liam are already packing up David’s truck with their bags and his little grill that they use whenever they decide to have a cookout at the park.

“I just have to run in and grab my bag,” Emma tells Mary Margaret as they get out of her car. “You want to ride with me or David?”

“I’ll ride with David, who knows what he and Liam will do if they are left alone.”

She chuckles and slides her sunglasses to the top of her head. “They won’t do anything. They may not like Regina much, but they like Robin and wouldn’t disrespect him.” Mary Margaret tilts her head and Emma snorts. “At least I hope not.”

They agree to meet at the mansion and she heads toward the building.

“Emma!” Liam calls out to her. “Would it be terrible if Killian were to ride along with you? He was still getting ready when we came out here, and I wish to help your brother unload the truck.”

“Um, sure, is he—” The truck roars to life before she can finish and he’s waving to her from the back of the truck a second later as it pulls off. “Oh, okay, then.”

Walking into the building, she knocks once on their door before poking her head inside. “Jones?” When there’s no answer, she takes a step inside and calls out for him again.

“Swan?” His voice comes from behind a closed door down the hall.

“Yeah, everyone left. I just have to grab my bag. How much longer do you need?”

He’s silent for longer than he needs to be, and she’s just about to call out to him again when he finally answers, “I’ll be a moment…unless you care to join me?”

She shakes her head but keeps the smile on her face only because he can’t see her. “Hurry up, Jones. I know it takes a while to deflate that big head of yours.”

He grumbles something too low for her to hear as she climbs the stairs up to her apartment. She grabs her bag, camera, and a couple canisters of film before heading back down stairs.

“You ready to go?” She asks, her eyes on her bag as she stashes her film in between her towel for safe keeping.

“Aye.”

His hand appears, offering to take her bag and when she looks up to say thanks, her words fail her, because Killian looks _sinfully_ good.

On his feet are a pair of beat up, old chucks she didn’t even know he owned—he’s been wearing nothing but boots since he first arrived—he’s already wearing his swim trunks, which makes his legs bare apart from the dark hair that covers them and— _fuck_ —his calves put David Beckham’s to shame. His gray tank top is long and stops just above his noticeable—

Nope, _not_ noticeable bulge, because she isn’t looking at her friend’s crotch.

—his forearms are… _seriously?!_ And his biceps…

It’s in that moment she comes to the decision that Killian Jones has to be photoshopped, because normal men just don’t _look_ like he does.

Dark sunglasses cover his eyes and his hair looks like he just ran his hands through it to keep it from falling over his eyes.

“You alright?”

She snaps out of her thoughts and hands over her bag. “Y-yes. Of course. Thank you.”

He nods and follows her out to her car. “Explain to me again what it is we are doing.”

“Um, well, it rarely gets hot to the point where people want to swim in Storybrooke, that’s why there’s only the one public pool. But Regina Mills, the mayor, has her own heated one at her house.”

“And she just allows the lot of you to use it whenever you wish?”

With a snort, she shakes her head and pulls out onto the street. “God no. There’s a reason why she’s nicknamed the ‘Evil Queen,’ but her fiancé, Robin, he’s a good guy. He’s the gym teacher at the school Mary Margaret works at. Anyway, he’s attempted to break her out of her shell by having her be more sociable, but Regina…she’s...well, she’s Regina and it doesn’t always work.”

“Still doesn’t explain how we are able to enjoy the pleasures of her pool on a warm day, Swan.”

“Whenever they go away on vacation, Robin lets us know we can use the pool if we want. He says that Regina doesn’t know, but I’m pretty sure she does because the last time I left my towel by accident and she dropped it off to David at the station without a word,” she explains with a shrug while making a right turn. “We don’t go in the house, but there really isn’t any reason to. She has a pool house where we can get changed that has a bathroom and there’s a bar with a fridge.”

She pulls into Regina’s driveway and parks her bug behind David’s truck. The mayor’s mansion is almost blindingly white, and, of course, the biggest house on the block. There’s a beautiful apple tree just off to the side and a long walk way that leads to the front door.

“That’s awfully nice of the man,” he responds as they step out of her car.

“Like I said, Robin’s a nice guy. Would you mind helping me with the bags?”

“Of course, but while it’s just us—”

“Ah, there you two are,” Liam calls out at as he walks toward them from the back. “Emma, lass, do you happen to have a lighter or matches in that contraption you call a vehicle.”

“Hey!” She gasps as she opens her trunk. “I _like_ my car, teddy bear. Don’t talk shit on it.”

Killian lifts his brow while Liam rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t ‘talking shit on it’ as you so eloquently spoke—” She ducks back into her car to retrieve the lighter from her glove compartment. “—I was merely speaking of the integrity and architectural design of this vehicle that is basically all fur coat and no knickers.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times while Killian can barely contain his laughter.

“Don’t use your British terms to distract me!” She cries out, waving her hands in front of her. Slapping the lighter against Liam’s chest, she smirks. “Just for that, you can carry everything in.”  

Taking her bag from Killian, she turns and walks to the back, but not before throwing an elbow into Liam’s side, making him chuckle.

The music becomes clearer as she nears the backyard and the faint smell of chlorine fills her senses. When she was younger, pools that looked like Regina’s were only available to her through the TV screen. But it wasn’t anything she really missed out on, because she didn’t learn how to swim until she was fourteen.

She remembers it like it was yesterday; David invited her to his end-of-school-year party and told her to bring a bathing suit. She tried to get out of it, told him that her house mother wouldn’t let her go, but he saw right through her.

_“Your house parents have never stopped you before, what’s the real reason?”_

_With a sigh, she closes her locker before pushing the glasses up on her nose._

_“Dave…”_

_“Emma, I really want you there. Kathryn’s coming, what if I say something stupid?”_

_They start to walk down the hall toward her class and she snorts, “You mean like you do every time?” He pokes her in the side and she giggles. “I want to come, but…what i-if I’m, you know, gone by then.”_

_“It’s next week, Em, not next year.”_

_“You never know when I could be taken away,” she mumbles with a shrug._

_He stops her in the middle of the hall and lifts his eyebrow. “I told you before, you’re not going anywhere, not if I can help it. You’re family.” She gives him a tight-lipped smile, not bothering to tell him it’s not up to him or her, because he won’t listen. “Now, what’s the real reason?”_

She finally admitted to him that she couldn’t swim and fully expected an onslaught of jokes at her expense. What she didn’t expect was for him to nod and walk away without saying anything. When school was over, he was waiting for her outside, but instead of driving her home he took her to his house and told her he was going to teach her how to swim.

They spent every day after school and all weekend in his pool, and on the day of his party, no one would have guessed she had only just learned.

“Everything okay?”

David’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts and she smiles up at him. He must have approached her when she was lost in her memories while Mary Margaret lays their towels on the lounge chairs next to the pool.

“Yeah, just remembering my first time swimming.”

A wistful smile appears on his lips before he wraps his arm around her neck and pulls her in to kiss the top of her head. Putting her arm around his middle, she stays there for a moment, laying her head under her brother’s chin.

David was the first person in her entire life to never let her down, to stick around and show her what it was like to have a family when she thought she was alone in the world. He accepted her for who she was and never treated her like she was nothing.

“Love you, Em,” he says softly before pressing another kiss to the top of her head.

They don’t say it to each other often, he knows how hesitant she is with those words because of how they have been used against her in the past, but it’s okay because they _know_ how each other feels.

Giving him a small squeeze, she murmurs back, “Love you, too.”

When they pull apart, she sees Mary Margaret smiling at them with what looks like tears in her eyes and her hands over her heart, making them both breathe out a tiny laugh.

“Liam and Killian are bringing in the bags if you want to go help.” David gives her a nod before she heads over to Mary Margaret, wiggling her finger at her. “Shush it you.”

Holding her hands up, she gives Emma a look of innocence and shakes her head. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Let me go get changed and I’ll be back out to help you set up.”

The pool house is basically a studio apartment; it holds a bed with a small living room area, a bathroom and a tiny kitchen. There have been more than a few times they’ve decided to sleep there instead of going home due to the amount of drinks they consumed. It’s also another reason why she believes Regina knows about what they do, because each time the pool house is always clean and fully stocked, despite no one in her house ever using it.

She’s just about to close the door when it’s pushed open and she stumbles back.

“Christ, Jones,” she breathes out as her heart beats wildly in her chest. “You just about gave me a heart attack.”

“Apologies, love,” Killian whispers.

She watches as he closes the door and holds her hands up in confusion. “Um, hello, getting dressed here.”

Leaning back, he presses his tongue to the back of his teeth and says, “Don’t stop on my account.”

Since they’ve gotten closer he’s toned down his flirting, but there are occasions he’ll throw something out to her, and she’ll either give him a blank stare or smack him.

Which is exactly what she does, making him chuckle and rub his arm.

Rolling her eyes, she keeps her voice blank and asks, “What are you doing in here, Jones?”

He turns back to the door, his hand lifting to move the shade aside to look out the window. “I have a surprise for tonight.”

“A surprise?” He nods. “I thought I told you I don’t like surprises.”

That damn smirk is back on his face when he looks at her. “All the more reason to do it. You’re cute when you’re flustered, did you know that?” A chuckle bubbles from the back of his throat when she hits him again and waves her off. “Will you help me out or not?”

“If I say yes, will you get out of here?” She sighs, a small smile on her lips. “Your big head is taking up so much room, I can barely breathe.”

“It’s nice to know I can leave you breathless,” he says with a wink.

She moves to smack him again, but he darts out the door before she can make contact.

* * *

* * *

Killian steps out of the pool house, a puff of air passing his lips as he quickly grumbles at himself. Emma is simply changing not five feet from where he’s standing and he’s acting like a blushing lad who’s never bedded a woman before. Of course he knew why she had entered the dwelling, but he needed to tell her of what he’s done so she would play along—and so she will speak for him when Liam ultimately tries to murder him for it.

Moving over to the bar, he begins to unload the bags he’s carried from her car, glad that he was able to escape before anyone saw him.

He’s not blind to how everyone is looking at their newfound friendship. They’ve received more than a few odd glances, especially from their own mates. Liam cornered him just the other day, demanding an explanation.

_“You were out late last night.”_

_Killian looks up from the book he’s reading and raises his eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that I had a curfew.”_

_“Were you with Emma?”_

_Closing the book, he places it in his lap and stares at Liam, who is standing before him with his arms folded across his chest and his brow furrowed._

_“Aye, what of it?”_

_“You two seemed to have gotten close.”_

_There’s a tone to his voice that makes Killian become defensive. “Is there a problem?”_

_Liam sighs and sits down in the chair across from him. “No, of course not. Emma is a wonderful lass and—”_

_He clenches his jaw and shoots up from the couch, stalking over to the kitchen with a growl. “And I should stay far away from her lest I taint her with my impure ways?”_

_He’s about to rip the fridge open to fetch himself something to drink when Liam’s hand appears to hold it shut._

_“That’s not—”_

_“We’re friends, Liam, that’s all. It’s true we’ve become close, but it’s only because we understand each other.”_

_Liam hesitates, his eyes moving back and forth over his face before he finally mumbles, “If you’re sure…”_

_“I am,” he chuckles, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We all know the only person I care about is me.”_

The conversation ended after that and he was glad for it. He in no way wished to explain to his brother that he wasn’t capable of caring for a woman again, that Milah left that part of his heart empty and hollow.

It’s why he sticks to one night stands, though he hasn’t had once since he first moved to Storybrooke. He ignores the voice in the back of his head that tells him it’s because of a certain blonde and unpacks the case of beer left behind the bar.

There’s a mini fridge underneath the sink and when he opens it, he’s pleasantly surprised to find that it’s turned on and already cold, making him believe in Emma’s theory that the mayor knows they are there to use her amenities.

After a moment, Liam and David walk back with the remaining bags from the car and place them down on the ground. His brother takes off his t-shirt and tosses it to the side before unpacking one of his bags. His scars start at the curve of his neck and running down his left arm, stopping where Killian was able to grab him.

He remembers finding Liam, half aflame and unconscious before pulling him out of the house, and how every time after he saw his brother’s body, the guilt would consume him and he would get angry, wondering why his brother would want to show off what they’ve been through.

_“We must embrace the trials of our past, Killian. They are what makes us who we are today.”_

Perhaps if he listened to his brother’s advice, he would have had better luck in his life…

“Emma getting dressed?” Mary Margaret asks, coming out of _nowhere_ , mixing a dip in a bowl.

“Aye,” he answers just as his phone beeps. Looking down at the message, he smiles. “Uh, excuse me for a moment.”

Walking out of the gate, he sees the brunette standing at the end of the driveway, a bag hanging on her shoulder and her hands wringing in front of her.

“Belle.”

A look of relief appears on her face and she takes a step forward. “Killian, I must say I wasn’t too sure when you told me about this…and if I’m being honest, I’m still not. Are you certain this is alright?”

“Positive,” he leans forward to press his lips against her cheek. “I’m told they do this all the time.”

They begin to walk toward the back and she shakes her head. “I’ve always wondered what her backyard looked like. Those fences of hers are too tall for anyone to see.”

He chuckles. “So I’ve seen. Though I believe there is a reason for that.”

He’s just about to push the gate open when her hand stops him. “Killian, are you _sure_?”

It was yesterday when they were speaking that she finally admitted her feelings for his brother.

_“How is Liam?” He looks up to see Belle nervously picking at the corner of a book. “I went by the docks the other day but they said he was out.”_

_Barely containing his smile, he shrugs. “Liam is, well...still a right pain in my arse.” She giggles as he hands her another book to put on the shelf. “Was there something you needed him for?”_

_Her cheeks turn pink and she looks down as she shakes her head. “No. I was, uh, I was just popping by to see if he might want to grab a bite to eat.”_

_“That’s very kind of you,” he comments, struggling to keep his voice straight. “I’m sure he would have loved that.”_

_“Maybe,” she mumbles. “It seems like he’s always out whenever I stop by to ask, though.”_

_“How do you mean?”_

_She sighs, keeping her gaze fixed on the books in front of her. “Sometimes I think he’s avoiding me.”_

_Remembering what Emma told him at the party a few weeks back, he thinks about his words before speaking, “I assure you that if he is, it says more about him than it does you, lass.”_

_“I have feelings for your brother, and I thought he for me...but every time I try to approach the subject of us possibly moving forward, he seems to back away. I just don’t understand.” Her eyes widen, and she turns to look at him. “Killian, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…can we just forget about my little speech there? I’m extremely embarrassed.”_

_“Of course,” he answers, giving a slight shrug. “Think nothing of it.”_

_After a few moments of silence, he smirks and hands her another book. “Do you enjoy swimming?”_

“It’s fine, lass,” he says with a smile. “Unless you feel you wouldn’t enjoy our company.” She gives him a blank stare and he chuckles before holding his arm up. “Come now, it’s just this way.”

For the most part, they all hide their surprise, greeting Belle as if it’s completely normal for her to be there, except for Liam. The look on his face is priceless. It’s a mixture between shock and what looks like anger.

“I invited Belle to join us tonight,” he tells them, his eyes flickering over to Liam. He almost snorts when he sees his mouth drop. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course!” Mary Margaret calls out, rushing over to give the librarian a hug. “Belle, it’s so good to see you.”

Killian allows his friends to say hello while he moves over to his brother. “You don’t mind Belle being here, do you, brother?”

Liam clears his throat and turns back to the grill. “Not at all.” He busies himself with unloading the coal. “Belle is a fine woman, and you’re a good man. You two are lucky to have found each other.”

“I invited her for you.”

His head snaps up, but before he can say anything, Belle approaches. “Hello, Liam. It’s good to see you.”

“Right, yes,” he says quickly, moving forward just as his foot gets caught on the corner of a grill and it scrapes loudly against the ground.

Killian steps back, his mouth falling open at the scene before him. Never has he seen his brother so… _disoriented_ , especially over a woman. Part of him is a little jealous; not once has a woman affected him in that way, not even Milah, and he finds himself yearning for it.

Looking up when he hears the door open, he watches Emma emerge from the pool house and can’t help but murmur, “Bloody hell.”

She’s undone the braid in her hair, leaving it with a slight curl, flowing freely over her shoulders. The swim top she’s wearing is blood red and gives her already amazing breasts a very sinful cleavage. Her tight stomach is on full display and the shorts she’s wearing are undone, showing just a sliver of her bottoms that match the color of her top.

Belle steps forward to say hi and he snaps back in hopes to not get caught staring, but in his quick movement he knocks two bottles off the bar and they crash to the ground.

“Bullocks,” he grumbles before kneeling to clean up his mess while everyone jumps to help.

“Oh, Killian, are you okay?” Mary Margaret gasps.

“Aye.” She moves to approach but he puts his hand up. “No, I’ll clean it up. I don’t wish for you to be harmed.”

She pats him on the back, telling him she’ll get a broom while David grabs the trash can. Belle attempts to help, but he ushers her away as well, embarrassment washing over him like a plague. They’ve been there for less than an hour, a place where the owner may or may not know they are, and he’s already made a mess.

Not to mention he can just _feel_ his brother’s glare on the back of his head.

As if he could tell what Killian was just thinking, Liam calls out. “Don’t cut yourself, little brother.”

“Younger,” he hisses under his breath, piling the broken glass onto his palm, only stopping when a shadow falls over him.

“You alright?”

Emma is kneeling before him, her hair creating a curtain around them as she reaches to help with the shattered bottle.

“Fine,” he mumbles, eyes flickering up to her before looking back down. “I’ve got this, Swan.”

She doesn’t listen.

“What’s wrong?”

He continues to pick up the glass, shaking his head and remaining quiet as the others help clean up the mess he’s made.

“It’s nothing.”

Neither one of them speak again until Mary Margaret approaches with the broom. Tossing the broken glass in the bin, he takes the broom from her while Emma picks up a tiny pan for him to sweep into.

“The first time we came here,” she starts while he sweeps. “I spilled a glass of red wine on the couch over there.” She motions to the couch located next to the bar. “It was my first glass.”

His brow furrows as she walks over to the couch and lifts one of the cushions to reveal a large pink stain on the bottom. He breathes out a chuckle and she shrugs.

He looks over when David calls his name to see him standing next to the pool house, pulling a piece of siding away from the wall. “I did this last summer when your brother decided to toss the football too far.”

“The ball was thrown perfectly well, mate. It’s not my problem you were too pissed to catch it,” Liam counters as he takes a beer from behind the bar and hands it to Belle.

“Whatever you say, buddy,” David calls back with a shake of his head.

Looking back over to Emma, he sees her smirk. “Maybe that’s why Regina only lets us be here when she’s not.”

Unable to hold back his chuckle, he looks down at his feet and scratches the back of his ear.

“Is anyone hungry just yet or will the snacks be okay for now?” Mary Margaret asks, a bag of chips already in her hand.

Everyone agrees on the snacks while Belle steps forward, offering to help, which in turn makes Liam offer as well. Killian just crosses his arms over his chest and smiles.

“Is this what you were talking about?” Emma asks as she approaches and he nods. “Holy shit. Jones, you’re a _genius,_ and he’s totally going to kill you, by the way.”

“I can handle my brother, and, apologies,” he lifts his hand to his ear. “Did you just call me a genius?”

Her eyes widen and she slowly shakes her head. “Oh, I want to take it back.”

“No, no, you can’t,” he laughs, and when she attempts to smack him, he side-steps her and calls over his shoulder, “Dave! We need a tape recorder!”

“Oh my god,” she growls, picking up a pillow from the couch and yanking her arm back to throw.

“Now, Swan, what will happen if you throw that and miss?”

“There’s no way I can miss, your head is the size of this house!” She quips and throws the pillow at him.

He catches it before it can make contact and scoffs, “My head is not that big!”

She picks up another, but it’s snatched out of her hand by Liam before she can throw it.

“The three of us will be having a talk later,” he hisses.

Her mouth falls open and she squares her shoulders, voice almost whining, “What did I do?”

“You know what you did,” he growls, glaring at them both before walking over to finish with the grill.

When his brother isn’t looking, Emma lifts her hand and Killian gives her a high five.

They do make quite the team.

* * *

Though he much prefers the ocean waves, Killian has to admit swimming around in the Mayor’s pool is far better than sitting under a fan trying to fend off the heat. And even though the air seems to get cooler as the day moves along, the heater keeps the water warm so they barely notice the temperature change.

What he _does_ notice is the way Emma’s cheeks redden the more she drinks and how he can’t seem to stop touching her the more _he_ drinks.

For example, they were playing something called “chicken,” where Emma sat on his shoulders while Mary Margaret sat on David’s and they battled to see who could push the other off.

So far, he and Emma are undefeated.

When they were finished and she moved off his shoulders, her legs sliding down his body and arms wrapping around his shoulders, he used the excuse of celebrating to keep her close. To his surprise, Emma then attached herself to his back and did not move. Her legs wrapped securely around his waist, her breasts pressed up against his shoulder blades, and when she’s not waving her right hand about in the water, it’s wrapped around his front.

Her skin feels like silk, and he can’t help but every so often reach under the water to brush his thumb across her ankle. He ignores how _good_ it feels, how… _close_ it is. The last time he was this close to a person, it was Milah. She was always overly affectionate when around other women, but it never felt like _this._

He remembers when David and his wife came to visit, how deep down he tried to copy the affection they had with each other and even told himself that it was the same. He knows now that it wasn’t.

The realization hits him like a tidal wave and he suddenly plants his feet on the pool floor and stands up, making Emma squeal and squeeze him tighter.

“What are you doing?”

Everyone is staring at him and he chuckles while he attempts to hide the uneasiness in his voice, “Apologies, love. Forgot where I was for a tick.”

Sinking back into the water, he feels Emma’s body relax around him before she eventually starts to push herself off. Part of him is glad for it, because he finds it hard to concentrate when she’s so close. It’s almost as if he forgets all sense of being when she’s around and all there is, is her. With a shake of his head, he lets go of her ankles and allows her to fall away from him, but the second she’s gone, he misses her warmth, his body almost shivering because of it.

He suddenly wants to tell her she can hop back on, but she’s swimming toward the edge, asking Liam for another drink and he’s already made a fool of himself.

“You okay, man?”

David is floating off to his right with his wife in the same position Emma was, making him miss it even more.

“Never better,” he grins before submerging himself into the water fully.

Their voices are muffled when he’s under and he blows air out through his nose, feeling the bubbles as they hit his face.

Growing up, he was a fumbling mess of a lad, worried more about his schooling as to not disappoint Liam. It wasn’t until he was older that he gained confidence with the opposite sex. Then, he met Milah and she made him into what he is now, the person that everyone sees…

It was as if being around Emma made him completely forget all of it and be the fumbling teenager again.

A touch on his shoulder makes him resurface and he finds Emma before him with two bottles of beer.

Shaking the excess water out of his hair, he wipes his face before taking the offered beverage. “Thank you.”

He wants to say more, apologize for the way he acted, but she merely smiles and pulls a float in front of her, leaning on it as she treads water. Disappointment washes over him because he wants nothing more than to feel her wrapped around him again, but he’s messed it up.

“Do you think we should have a Fourth of July party?” Mary Margaret asks, her chin resting on David’s shoulder.

He looks back at her with a half grin. “We have one every year, babe.”

“We kind of just barbeque…,” she answers with a little shrug.

“And drink and invite everyone over,” Emma snorts.

The brunette huffs and turns toward Liam and Belle. “Guys, do you think we should have a Fourth of July party this year?”

Once the sun started to lower, Liam mentioned starting the grill and, of course, Emma cheered for it. If there’s one thing Killian’s learned since meeting her, it’s that she _loves_ food. In fact, he can’t really recall a time they’ve spent together where she wasn’t eating.

After Liam moved to start, Belle offered to help and they both exited the pool. It was then Mary Margaret finally caught onto what was going on, and David had to physically restrain his wife from squealing in happiness. It was a sight to see, because, for being such a small person, Mary Margaret sure knows how to put up a fight. It took David _and_ Emma to hold her back from saying anything, while Liam and Belle looked on with furrowed brows.

“Don’t you have one every year?” Belle asks as she holds out a plate for Liam to place the finished burgers on.

Killian and Emma both chuckle as Mary Margaret gives a little hmpf and sags against David’s back.

“Don’t worry, dear,” he pats her arms. “We’ll have our yearly party.”

He laughs when his wife shoves him away and calls him a jerk. Pulling her back, he attempts to kiss her lips as she shakes her head and pushes against his chest.

Looking over at Emma, Killian shakes his head while she rolls her eyes and interrupts the bickering couple, “So…we’re having a party?”

“Yes,” Mary Margaret answers, pushing David’s face away from her. “We’re having a party. Make sure you don’t accept any cases around that time.”

With a shrug, she replies, “Summer time is usually slow; most people are on vacation. It’s when they get back that they want a private investigator.”

“Many robberies while they are away, I take it?” he snorts, floating closer to her.

“Yup,” she pops the ‘p’ and brings her bottle to her lips.

Climbing onto her husband’s back, Mary Margaret continues, “And they always seem to call when I plan for us to do something!”

Killian looks over at Emma and he has to hold back his laugh. The sparkle in her eye tells him it’s not so much of them calling but more Emma purposely accepting a case so that she doesn’t have to attend whatever it is that Mary Margaret planned.

He’ll have to enlist her help with that when the time comes.

“Oi,” Liam calls out. “Food’s ready.”

They all head to the steps and he moves aside to allow Mary Margaret to go before him, the reason being he’s a gentleman, _not_ because if he goes up after Emma, he’s afraid he won’t be able to restrain himself from staring at her delectable arse.

_Bloody woman is going to be the death of me._

Shaking his head, he climbs up the steps only to stop when he sees a towel being held out and Emma smiling down at him.

“Thank you, love.”

He’s drying himself off when Belle walks up, Emma’s camera in her hands. “May I?”

“Of course,” she wraps her towel around her shoulders and reaches out to take the cap off the lens. “You’re all set.”

“You don’t mind people touching your camera?” he asks, motioning to the brunette as she walks off.

“No, it’s nice. When I develop the pictures it’s like I’m getting a glimpse at what someone else sees.”

Rubbing the towel through his hair, he gives a slight nod in agreement. “I never thought of it that way.”

“Yeah, there was this one time I let David take the camera, and though most of them were blurry because he decided to act like a photographer with a model…” He snorts and lays his towel out on one of the lawn chairs. “There’s this really beautiful one he took of Mary Margaret. She’s looking at something to the right, and she has this smile on her face…he has it on his desk at the station.”

“I’ve seen that. It’s very beautiful.”

“That’s why I don’t mind.”

The right side of his lips tug up. “And how do you think they’ll see me?”

“I don’t know if they’ll be able see anything other than that big head of yours,” she jokes yet again, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

He can’t help it, he throws his head back and laughs.

* * *

Before moving to Storybrooke, Killian could count on one hand how many times he gave a smile that wasn’t forced. They were very few and far between, but since moving he almost can’t remember the last time he gave a forced one.

After their meal, they swim for a bit longer, the heater in the pool allowing them to forget about the chill in the air, and, if he’s being honest, act like children. There’s more than one occasion that he finds himself jumping on David’s back while Liam attempts to hold them both down, but it’s all in good fun.

Mary Margaret yells that they are going to hurt each other while Belle giggles and Emma cheers for her brother. Killian mock glares, feigning hurt feelings, and when she shrugs, he’s so distracted he misses David and Liam sneaking up, allowing them to dunk him with minimal effort. Emma’s laughing when he resurfaces and he swims to her, his hands sliding across her sides and around her back before tossing her across the pool.  

As the night moves along and they drink more, he finds he and Emma gravitate toward each other more than ever. If she’s not wrapping her fingers around his biceps, he’s placing his hands on her hips. There was even a moment where she was wrapped around his front and his face was buried in her neck. He doesn’t know how it happened, but he just about groaned when she moved away.

Now, they are completely alone.

Belle left an hour before, with Liam offering to walk her home. His brother told them he would be back, but ten minutes after they left, he received a text message telling them he wouldn’t be returning. Mary Margaret squealed as Emma snickered, and David, in his drunken mess, recorded a video singing “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” and sent it to him.

Hopefully his brother has the common sense to watch that when he’s alone.

After David’s _horrid_ rendition, his wife insisted it was time for bed. Killian escorted him into the pool house and was rewarded with a wet kiss before his mate crashed to the bed and started to snore.

His mate never could hold his liquor.

“I have cat-like reflexes I’ll have you know,” Emma slurs before twisting herself on the couch to face him. “Here, I’ll show you. Hold your hands out in front of you.”

Rolling his eyes, he places his bottle on the table and turns to mirror her position, holding his hands out.

“Okay, palms down,” she instructs, pulling his hands closer to her before placing her own under his. “Now, I’m going to smack your hands before you have a chance to pull them away.”

He can’t help but laugh at how adorable she is, even if she’s completely pissed out of her mind. Her fingers move underneath his palms, tickling them slightly as she smirks at him. He has no doubt that if she were sober, he would put more thought into moving, but now he’s just going to have fun.

She laughs every time she misses, smacking his chest and telling him to stop cheating. He finds himself laughing so hard his stomach hurts. Though there are a few times she catches his fingers, he lies and tells her he doesn’t feel anything.

“I got you!” she cries out. “Don’t even try to lie! I _know_ when you’re lying!”

“Am not!” He laughs and flinches when she smacks him again. “Bloody hell, Swan. That hurts!”

“Well, stop lying and I’ll stop hitting you.”

“I’m—” She raises her hand and he just barely catches her wrist before she hits him. “—not lying.”

They continue to wrestle with Emma practically in his lap by the time they are done, but he’s laughing too hard to care. Every time he’s with her he ends up laughing, and it feels amazing.

He’s usually the one that makes people laugh, not wanting anyone around him to feel as he does on a daily basis, but with Emma, it’s as if he can’t stop. Spending time with her is an absolute delight; he’s never had someone make him laugh as much as she does, and he’s starting to crave it more and more as the days pass.

Their laughter begins to die down and he presses his forehead against hers. There’s a heat between them that has nothing to do with the fire that’s blazing just a few feet away. It wouldn’t take much effort to lean forward and taste her, to press his lips firmly against hers and lose himself completely.

But they’ve been drinking, and it would be wrong…even if it’s all he wants to do.

Instead, he inhales deeply and pulls back, pressing his lips to her forehead and closes his eyes. She smells of smoke and chlorine with a hint of cinnamon.

“We should get some sleep, love.”

She groans and moves to rest her head on his chest, completely unaware of the inner turmoil he’s going through. “We have to put out the fire.”

Rubbing her arm, he places another kiss to the back of her head and mumbles, “I’ll take care of it, don’t fret.” She lifts her head to argue but yawns instead, making him chuckle. “Off to bed with you, I’ll be there in a tick.”

She eventually listens, even if she is grumbling the entire time about how annoying he is. When she finally disappears into the pool house, he collapses back onto the couch and puts his head in his hands. Never in his life has he had to fight so hard to hold himself back from a woman—then again, he’s never had a woman call to him as much as she does.

Shaking his head, he stands and puts the cover over the fire, waiting until it’s nothing but smoke before pouring the gallon of water on top of it. By the time he’s finished clearing up their bottles, he feels the fire is out enough to leave it alone and heads into the pool house.

The moon shines through the windows enough that he can just barely see where he’s going as David’s snores echo from the bed. He holds back his laugh because he remembers having to deal with his mate’s snoring during the summer they met. He used to throw a pillow at his head to get him to shut up, but he can’t necessarily do that when his wife is sleeping next to him.

Walking to the small living room area, he finds Emma laying on the couch, her hands tucked up under her chin and her body curled into itself. There’s a deep urge inside of him to lay beside her, to take her into his arms and fall asleep, but he can’t do that.

He doesn’t deserve it.

Letting out a sigh, he takes his bag into the bathroom to change. He remembers what it was like falling for Milah; it was fun and exciting, but it was slow. It was all about shagging and trying to forget about what was going on with Liam when they first got together. When everything calmed down, he realized he enjoyed spending time with her. He dove head first into their relationship, not pulling any stops because who didn’t want to be in love? It’s what most people long for.

Now the thought of falling in love completely terrifies him. _Emma_ terrifies him, because he can already see himself going down the same path...the path that leads to nothing but wasted years and endless torment.

Turning the sink on, he cups his hands under the water and splashes it over his face, wishing it had the power to wash away the sins of his past. But he knows there is no hope for that. He must live with the things that were done to him and the things he did to deal with them. It’s why he has to stop whatever is happening between him and Emma. He cares for her too much to taint her with his darkness.

The problem was, how was he to stay away from her? They live in the same building, she’s his best mate’s sister and has become one of his closest friends. Even if it were possible, he’s not entirely sure he _wants_ to stay away from her. She’s awoken something inside of him he thought died a long time ago, something he didn’t even know he missed.

He just needs some time to think.

Opening the door, he turns off the light when he sees the makeshift bed on the floor next to the couch. There’s a pillow and a blanket set up, and he feels his heart clench. Emma must have done it for him while he was cleaning up.

He finds himself smiling again as he lays down on the floor, tugging the blanket over his body. Just as his eyes close, he hears a soft voice from above.

“Everything alright?”

He looks up to find Emma gazing down at him. Her cheeks are still pink from the warmth of the fire and a piece of her hair is falling over her face. She’s looking at him like she knows what he’s been thinking, and he knows then he is never going to be able to stay away from her.

“Everything is fine. Get some sleep.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with the floor?”

His eyes close briefly at her concern, and he struggles to keep the emotion in his voice under control. “Aye, love, I’m sure. I’ve had far worse, trust me.”

There’s silence for a few moments, and he thinks she might have fallen asleep before he hears, “I do…trust you...I do.”

He lifts his head to answer, but her breath has already evened out and her eyes are closed. Laying back, he places his hand on his chest and drums his fingers to the beat of his heart and murmurs, “I trust you, too.”

* * *

Killian has just parked a customer’s car on the street when he hears her voice.

“Hey.”

Turning around, he sees Emma standing before him, a pair of white and black Converse on her feet, blue jean shorts, and a loose fitting tank top. There’s a tote bag slung over her shoulder, a pair of sunglasses covering her eyes and her hair is moving with the wind.

“Swan.” He tries to reign in his excitement, but it seems bloody pointless around her. “Fancy seeing you here. Did you miss me?”

He doesn’t have to see her eyes to know she’s rolled them before she says, “I was in the neighborhood.”

“You were in the neighborhood?” His voice drips with amusement as he pulls a rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands. “And just happened to stop by my place of employment?”

The right side of her lips tug up, creasing her cheek while she pokes her tongue into the side of her cheek. “Actually, it wasn’t any trouble at all. Your big head is visible clear across town.”

That makes him laugh and he shakes his head. “To what do I owe the pleasure, love?”

“Um, my car is due for an oil change. I was supposed to get it done last month, but I kind of…forgot?”

“Forgot?” He balks before stepping around her and moving to the yellow bug parked at the curb. “Bloody hell, Swan, you could have blown your motor.”

Leaning in through the open window, he pulls the latch until the hood pops open.

“No, I wouldn’t have!” He throws her a glare over the hood and she rolls her eyes. “Bumblebee has never let me down before.”

He halts on pulling the dipstick out, raising his eyebrow. “Bumblebee? Did you name your car after a bloody Transformer?”

“Don’t judge me!” She cries, crossing her arms over her chest. “Bumblebee is fucking awesome and you know it.”

“Whatever you say, Swan.” The oil is thick and black when he checks it and he just barely holds back his look of disgust. “You definitely need a change. I think there’s another appointment scheduled, but I can do this for you after if you don’t mind waiting.”

“It’s alright, I’ll just leave it here with you.” She steps forward and holds out her keys. “Just bring it home when you’re done with work. You can drive a stick, right?”

He gives her a blank stare and plucks the keys out of her hand. “I would be a poor excuse for a mechanic if I didn’t, love.”

“Just making sure.”

“And just what are you going to do without a vehicle?”

“Walk around…take pictures. It’s a beautiful day.” She looks down at her bag and he presses his lips together. Though Storybrooke is small, he doesn’t like the idea of leaving her stranded, but he’s also aware that if he attempts to argue, she’ll wave him off. “Here’s my card for the bill—oh,” she pulls out a large envelope and hands it to him, “these are yours.”

“Are you certain? I can call you when I’m leaving, love. Pick you up from wherever it is you may be.”

Her eyes roll and she adjusts the strap on her shoulder. “I don’t know where I’ll be and you know how I get when I’m taking pictures. It’s no big deal.”

With a sigh, he nods and mumbles, “As you wish.”

She rewards him with a beautiful smile before giving a wave and walking off. Killian knows she’s unaware of how he feels about her, and he almost thinks that’s better. He’s heard the horror stories of when men showed interest in her in the past.

The most noticeable was the tale of the old Sheriff.

He only knows about it from when David first applied for the job, the poor sod had been so heartbroken when Emma didn’t return his affections that he up and left town. With a shake of his head, he looks back down to what she gave him.

It’s just a small infatuation anyway—he’ll get over it, and everything will go back to normal.

Tipping the envelope over, a smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he finds they are photographs from the weekend. He’s surprised how many there are, not recalling seeing Emma with her camera much, but then again all he really remembers is how she felt wrapped around him.

He flips through them, smiling at each moment she managed to capture, especially the one of himself and Liam. However, it’s the last one that makes him pause. It’s a picture of him and Emma sitting on the couch next to the fire pit looking at each other with large smiles on their faces.

He doesn’t remember it being taken, all he remembers from that night is how soft her skin was under his fingertips and how badly he wanted to kiss her. If he’s being honest, it’s all he’s bloody thought of for weeks.

When he gets home that night, he places the photos on the kitchen counter, spreading them out so he may put them in individual frames—except for the one of he and Emma that is off to the side; that one he’s going to keep for himself.

“That’s lovely.”

He jumps at Liam’s voice and turns.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbles. “Where did you come from?”

Liam’s lips twitch as he attempts to hide his amusement. “I’ve just walked in. Did you not hear me?”

Looking down to hide his embarrassment, he moves to the fridge to get himself something to drink while Liam looks down at the photo with a small smile on his face.

“I can’t believe Belle managed to take this.” Killian’s eyebrow raises and Liam motions to the picture. “Whenever anyone has tried to take a picture of Emma she always seems move at the last second, making herself out of focus.”

“So?” he answers with a shrug. “It’s just a bloody picture.”

“You fancy her.”

Killian chokes on his beverage, the liquid dribbling down his chin as he coughs out, “W-what?”

“If this picture isn’t proof—”

“You’re off your rocker, you know that?” He tries to hide the fear in his voice. “I told you before we’re friends.”

“Is it because of Milah?” Killian’s head snaps up and his mouth falls open. “Yes, I’m aware of how much she’s affected you.”

Shaking his head, his attempts to move from the room. “I don’t know—”

“Killian,” Liam holds up his hand and stops him. “You’re my _brother_ , please don’t take me for a fool.”

His eyes move back and forth between Liam’s before he lets all the air out of his lungs and sags forward. The weight of pretending he wasn’t affected by what Milah did to him too much to bare, he allows the tears to prick his eyes and the pain to finally show on his face.

Liam pulls him into his arms and he goes without a fight, hoping to absorb some of his brother’s strength.

“What happened?”

“It was all my fault,” he whispers into Liam’s shoulder. “I wasn’t…I couldn’t…”

He chokes on his words and sucks in a gulp of air.

“Hey, come now, I’m sure that’s not the case.”

Killian pulls back and shakes his head. “You weren’t there…you didn’t—”

“No, I wasn’t there for the end, but I was there at the beginning,” Liam starts, his voice hard and firm. “I saw how she treated you, Killian.”

Pushing himself away, he wipes at his face and growls, “You never liked her, Liam. How can I speak to you and have you understand if you refuse to be objective?”

“I’m not supposed to be objective!” Liam argues, refusing to allow him to leave the kitchen. “Not when it comes to you. You want objective, we’ll call David, but I doubt he’ll see you as to blame, either.”

His jaw clenches and his heart starts to pound in his chest. No part of him wants to talk about what happened with Milah, but he knows that if he wants to become a better man, he should begin by no longer ignoring his past.

“Aye,” he whispers. “Call David. Tell him to bring a bloody bottle.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @yeahiliketheredleatherjacket is basically the best person ever for editing this like a mofo
> 
> @thesschesthair is my angst lover and I wouldn’t have it any other way, she’s also a badass banner maker!
> 
> Whelp, I’ve been talked into it. Here’s the next chapter, but no more early updates and I want you all to remember that and the end ;-p
> 
> Double line breaks means change POV

**Chapter Seven**

Emma hears everyone’s voices as she leaves her apartment, meaning that she is once again late. Walking down the steps, she finds Killian sitting there, and before she’s even next to him he’s holding up a cup of coffee.

She grunts her thanks, the cup already to her lips before she sits down.

“Okay, so the electric and water bill are due on the twenty-sixth,” Mary Margaret begins, her papers and pens already spread out on the counter with Liam looking them over. “With the cable bill due the next day.”

David moves to sit in front of them on the steps as she leans over and takes the bear claw from the box in Killian’s lap.

“You better bloody enjoy that,” Killian murmurs. “Liam nearly cut my hand off trying to acquire it.”

“You sure he didn’t just freely give it up, since, you know, you thought he and I were together?”

She smirks around the pastry while he rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“I have off tomorrow, you guys doing anything?” David asks over his shoulder.

Emma shrugs, licking her fingers clean as Killian turns to her. “When are we leaving for your case?”

“Not until Thursday,” she says, taking another sip of her coffee.

She was hired last week to find out if a spouse was cheating in the town right outside of Storybrooke and when she told Killian about it, he offered to go with her. He said it was because he has a few days off work, but she knows it’s because he doesn’t like her traveling by herself.

Like the others, Killian has adopted the habit of worrying about her, but he at least lets her make her own decisions. Where David and Liam would have demanded someone go with her until she finally yelled at them that she was an adult, Killian asked, giving her the option to turn him down.

Killian nods while David takes out his phone. “You want to go see a movie?”

“Oh, let’s go see that new comedy with Ryan Reynolds,” she offers, leaning over David’s shoulder and attempting to scroll up.

“Bugger that,” Killian reaches to grab David’s phone. “Let’s see the new horror film.”

“The one with the haunting?” David asks.

“Aye.”

“No.” Emma tries to take the phone, but David swats at her hand. “I’m not seeing that stupid movie.”

“You only think it’s stupid because you’re scared,” Killian snickers.

“Dude,” David chuckles, still holding the phone away from her. “You should have seen when we all watched IT on Halloween. She made your brother and I search her apartment before she went to sleep.”

Killian laughs as Emma glares. “I told you I hate clowns.”

The two continue to make fun of her while she attempts to grab the phone. They all wrestle around for a couple moments, Emma almost practically in Killian’s lap trying to reach for it when there’s a throat being cleared.

Looking up, they see Mary Margaret and Liam glaring.

“Honestly, guys,” her sister-in-law sighs.

“You do realize you’re grown adults?” Liam says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Emma looks down at David before her gaze moves to Killian. None of them say anything, they just sit there staring before Killian tries to take the phone.

“We’re seeing the horror one!”

“No!”

The three of them start to wrestle for the phone again, completely ignoring the disapproving looks from Liam and Mary Margaret.

* * *

Emma’s sitting at the island in her kitchen with her laptop making reservations for her and Killian’s rooms when her phone goes off.

**Red alert. I’ve just received an earful and she’s on her way to you. – K**

Her brow furrows but before she can type back a response, she hears it.

“Emma Swan!” Mary Margaret’s voice is high and full of anger as she barrels into her apartment. “Did you _purposely_ accept this case to make me angry? You promised you wouldn’t!”

Holding her hands up, she speaks in a soothing tone, “Okay, take a deep breath.”

“This is Killian’s first Fourth of July here, and I planned this whole—”

“Mar!” Emma cuts her off. “Relax. We will be gone the weekend, that’s all. It’s a cheating spouse case, you know how easy they are.” Mary Margaret sighs and sits down on the stool next to her. “And why are you trying to use the excuse that it’s his first Fourth of July party? He’s lived here for three months and has been to one of your parties.”

Her sister-in-law squirms on her seat. “I just…I want him to feel at home here. That he’s wanted…”

“Where is this coming from?” she asks with her head tilted, crossing her arms on the island.

“Um...” Mary Margaret’s eyes flicker over to the door before she leans close. “I don’t know what happened, David didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask, but last week Liam called him and told him Killian needed help. I found the three of them passed out the next morning, the apartment reeking of rum.”

“I remember that,” she mumbles almost to herself.

When she got home after walking around town, she went to Liam and Killian’s apartment to get her keys and to see if they possibly wanted to get dinner.  She climbed through the window to find the three of them sitting in the living room. David jumped up to block her view as Killian stalked off down the hall, a door slamming in his wake.

She remembers how she debated with herself for hours about texting him to make sure everything was okay, but she didn’t want to push him so she let it go, ignoring the twinge of hurt when he didn’t show up for their nightly chat.

It wasn’t until she was crawling into bed that her phone beeped with a message.

**Sorry. – K**

She didn’t respond and the next time she saw him, he didn’t speak about what happened and neither did she.

“I’m just worried we’re not doing enough,” Mary Margaret whispers, her bottom lip almost pouting.

“You worry too much,” Emma tells her as she moves to get something to drink. “He’s getting along just fine. I’m sure whatever it was has nothing to do with him living here.”

“You’re probably right,” she huffs and taps her fingers. “David told me not to worry about it either.”

Sitting back down, Emma hands her a bottle of water and says, “Listen to your husband.”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes before she reaches out and takes Emma’s laptop.

“I saw these cute little do-it-yourself decorations on Pinterest—Oh! Your brother and I stayed at this hotel once, it’s nice.”

Feeling suddenly nervous, she starts to squirm in her seat. “Yeah, I mean, it’s a little pricier, but I figured with Killian coming, we should probably stay someplace nicer.”

“You two are sharing a room?”

“No, I’m just paying for his since he’s coming along.”

She doesn’t like the way Mary Margaret is looking at her. There’s something in her eyes, a sparkle her dear sister-in-law gets right before she starts in on one of her speeches about love and hope. They continue to stare at each other, Emma’s face blank and her brow raised in question, daring Mary Margaret to say something.

To her relief, she doesn’t; she just shakes her head and looks back to the laptop. “Here are the decorations I was talking about. Do you think we could make them?”

Accepting the subject change, Emma leans forward and looks at the decorations.

* * *

“Well…” Liam starts, his arms held out beside him. “How do I look?”

After the pool party, Liam finally found the courage to ask Belle out. It was a big thing in the building; Mary Margaret squealed in excitement, something about double dates, while everyone else just shrugged. Although, she does owe Killian lunch because she lost their bet on whether or not he would do it.

_“You two may be close, but I know my brother, Swan. He’ll ask her.”_

Hence the reason why he’s modeling different outfits; their first official date is later that night.

Emma tilts her head as Killian sits back on the couch. He places his feet up on the table, sinking further into the cushions while his shoulder brushes against hers.

“Turn around,” she motions to Liam with her hand.

He rolls his eyes and turns slowly. She quickly looks to Killian, who smirks and circles his hand when Liam turns back around.

“Now the other way.”

Liam’s brow goes together, but he turns again. They get him to spin twice more before he finally stops with a growl.

“Honestly, you two are like teenagers!”

Emma and Killian throw their heads back and laugh. Tears are streaming down her face while Killian hunches over, his head practically in her lap.

“Oh, bugger off,” Liam grumbles preparing to move.

“Wait,” she sucks in a breath, trying to reign in her laughter and pushes Killian off of her to stand. “We were just messing with you. You look great!” His face softens and he raises his eyebrows in question as she pats him on the chest. “Everyone knows you’re the better looking Jones—”

“Oi!”

She rolls her eyes and ignores Killian. “You could wear a burlap sack and the girls would swoon. Belle is going to love it.”

“Truly?” His voice is low and uncertain.

“Yes!” There is no hesitation in her answer. “Belle isn’t going to be able to take her eyes off you or her hands.” She gives a smirk and wiggles her eyebrows as a slight tint of pink forms on his cheeks. “Maybe I should call her…tell her to have you home by ten.”

Turning to grab her phone, Liam puts his arm out and blocks her.

“Alright, Emma. That’s enough.”

She giggles and wraps her arm around his back while she places her hand on his chest, “Don’t worry, Teddy Bear, it’s going to be great.”

His cheeks tint again, and she can’t help but stand on her toes to press her lips to them.

“Thank you, lass.”

They both look toward Killian, who is sitting on the couch with arms folded over his chest and what appears to be a forced smile on his lips.

“Well,” Liam clears his throat and takes a step back. “I best finish getting ready. You two try to stay out of trouble tonight, will you? I don’t need another phone call from Leroy.”

“That was his bloody fault!” Killian calls out to Liam as he retreats to his bedroom. “Blasted git can’t take a joke!”

She winces with a shrug. “We did move his car two blocks away.”

“He insulted my hair, Swan,” he whines as she plops herself back down next to him. “I think revenge was in order.”

“Like you don’t get your ego stroked enough.”

Wiggling his eyebrows at her, he purrs, “I’d say my ego needs a thorough _stroking_ every day.” He puffs out a laugh when she smacks him in the chest and shakes his head. “Bloody hell, woman, you’re violent.”

“And don’t you ever forget it,” she replies with a wink.

They share a laugh before she pushes herself off the couch and toward the kitchen.

“What do you want to do for dinner tonight?” She calls from over her shoulder, opening the drawer where they keep their take-out menus. “I’m thinking Chinese.”

“Your heart’s desire, Swan.” Her eyes roll at his response, but there’s a small smile on her face. “You never told me how it went earlier, was it awful?”

“With Mary Margaret?” He nods as she sits back down, menu open in her hands. “Not so bad. I told her we’ll only be gone the weekend and she seemed to calm down.”

He places his elbow on the back of the couch and leans his head on his hand, “Are you certain? If it happens to last longer, that’s alright, I’m not due back at work until after the holiday.”

“Yeah, these kinds of cases don’t take long, plus Mary Margaret will kill us if we miss the party.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “She’s quite serious about them, isn’t she?”

“Um, yeah…” She looks over to see his eyebrow up and sighs. “She’s worried you don’t like it here.”

“What?”

“It’s true. I know I probably shouldn’t say anything, but she gets herself so upset over the littlest things and…” She debates on bringing up what happened the week prior with him, Liam and David. It was obvious something among friends that he doesn’t want to explain, so she just shakes her head. “And she just wants to make sure you feel at home.”

“Is that why she’s constantly trying to feed me?” A slight giggle passes her lips at his scrunched up face. “She’s a sweet lass, but I think I’ve put on ten pounds since moving here.”

Reaching over to pat his firm stomach, she teases, “You do look a little bloated.”

It’s a flat out lie, but it’s fun to mess with him.

He pokes his finger into her side, making her body curl to protect itself--and also bringing them closer, but she doesn’t notice.

“I don’t want her thinking such a thing. I’ll have to make it up to her.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Instead of answering he just smirks and takes the menu out of her hands.

The next day, she’s sitting on top of her brother’s counter, talking to him about the movie they are about to see when Killian comes strolling in. He’s wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt that is tight across his biceps.

_Damn him._

“Where’s the lady of the house?”

“Hello to you, too,” Emma grumbles.

He throws her a wink and her stomach flips.

“She’s in the bathroom,” David tells him. “You okay with seeing the one o’clock show?”

Shaking his head, he steps forward and leans against the counter. “No can do…I’ve got a date.”

Her mouth falls open at his words and something inside of her tightens.

He has a date?

He’s never once mentioned even _liking_ someone and now he has a date? Her fingers tighten on the edge of the counter and she slams her mouth shut, forcing herself to stay neutral on the news and act as if it’s not affecting her.

Because it’s not.

Why would she care if Killian has a date? She should feel happy for him. He deserves some fun in his life, someone to care for…even if it’s just for one night.

That thought alone makes her sick to her stomach.

“A date...With who?” David asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Your wife.”

Emma’s eyebrows go up. That was…unexpected. Sagging forward, she shakes her head and tries to figure out what the feeling was that just washed over her.

David’s brow furrows. “Mary Margaret? Since when do you two have a date?”

“Since he called last night and asked.” They all look to see Mary Margaret walking into the room wearing a yellow sundress and securing the strap of her purse. “And I said yes.”

Killian smiles, pushing himself off the counter and giving her a kiss on the cheek while Emma and David stare in confusion.

“You ready to go, milady?”

“Yup.” She turns and waves to them. “See you guys later.”

They leave without another word and it’s a good three minutes before David, still staring at the door, asks, “Did my wife just leave to go out on a date with another man?”

“Um…” Her head tilts and her brows furrow. “Yes?”

“Huh,” he replies. There’s another minute of silence before he shakes his head and looks to her from over his shoulder. “Movies?”

Shrugging, she says, “Movies.”

* * *

They leave later than expected on Thursday. Mary Margaret insisted they have a home cooked meal before they go, so it's dark by the time they get on the road. There's a strange feeling running through her—never once has she been this anxious to start a case, and she has a feeling it has to do with the person sitting next to her.

“This is exciting,” Killian grins.

Chuckling, Emma shakes her head. “You do realize that most PI work isn’t like it is in the movies, right? It’s mostly just sitting around waiting for something to happen.”

“You mean to tell me we’re not going to be sitting out in some bar, smoking a fag while someone plays the piano? Why must you crush my dreams, Swan?”

She throws her head back and laughs. Of course he would go to the nineteen fifties version of a PI instead of a normal person who watched _Jessica Jones_ on Netflix and thinks it’s all about hiding out on roof tops to find someone that’s been missing for five years.

It was Liam’s biggest argument as to why she shouldn’t go anywhere alone, and she almost smacked him for it.

“I’m a dream crusher,” she sighs sarcastically.

They spend the rest of their ride keeping their conversation light. He tells her about his “date” with Mary Margaret, how he took her to the Thai restaurant she loves and how he didn’t mention once what she told him. He tells her how he shared a nice, quiet dinner with a friend and tried his hardest to make sure she knew that he appreciates everything she has done from him since he’s moved to Storybrooke.

“That was really sweet of you,” she tells him as they pull up in front of the hotel.

“Well sweet is my middle name, love.”

With a smirk, she looks at him over the top of her car and says, “I thought it was—”

“Bloody hell, Liam told you that, too?”

She giggles and adjusts the bag on her shoulder. “Yeah, it was right around the time you thought he and I were together.”

“I’m never going to bloody live that down, am I?”

With a sigh, she gives him a pat on the shoulder. “It’s unlikely.”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t say anything. He just shakes his head and motions for her to go first. She can feel his eyes on her, and it makes her skin heat up.

_Thank god they have separate rooms._

“Hello,” the young girl from behind the counter greets with a smile. “Welcome to Stars Inn, how can I help you today?”

“Hello, lass,” Killian drawls out, making the girl blush while Emma rolls her eyes. “We’re checking in.”

“Name?”

“Killian Jones.”

There are a few clicks on the keyboard before the girl nods. “Okay, Mr. Jones, I have you in room 302 and here are your keys. If you need anything, just call to the front desk and we’ll get it for you right away.”

He gives the girl a smile and Emma presses her lips together. She doesn’t like the feeling that washes over her at watching him flirt with another woman, but she ignores it and pushes herself forward.

“My room would be under Emma Swan.”

The girl turns back to the computer and types before her brow furrows. “Would it be under another name?”

“No,” she answers slowly. “That’s…my name. Emma Swan.”

“Right,” the girl smiles and looks back down at the computer. Looking over at Killian, he gives a shrug and she’s just about to tell him to head to his room, that he didn’t have to wait for her, when the girl speaks again. “Are you sure you made the reservation?”

“Yes,” Emma replies, her patience wearing thin. “Can you check again?”

There are a few more clicks before she shakes her head again. “I’m sorry, Miss. We don’t have anything under that name.”

Taking a deep breath, she starts out softly. “You have to, because I made the reservations on the same day. Literally, one right after—oh my god.” Her eyes flicker over to Killian and his brow raises.

“Everything alright, Swan?”

“Mary Margaret,” she groans, closing her eyes and resting her head in her hands.

“Come again?”

Opening her eyes, she adjusts the strap on her shoulder and explains, “I made the reservation for your room and was in the middle of doing mine when Mary Margaret came up to yell about us leaving. When she was done, she took my laptop to show me something she found and I completely forgot.”

He tries to keep a blank expression, but his lips press together and there’s a slight nod.

“I apologize for the confusion,” she mumbles to the girl, who nods with a smile. “Can I have a room, please?”

This time, the girl gives a grimace. “We’re completely booked.”

“Of course you are,” she sighs.

“’S alright, Swan. You can stay in my room.” Her eyes widen and his lets out a nervous chuckle while reaching up to scratch the back of his ear. “Wouldn’t wish for you to lose your job.”

It’s not until they’re walking into the room that she remembers…

One bed.

_Fuck._

* * *

* * *

Crushes are a funny thing and Killian has had plenty of them in his life. When he was younger, there were always girls around that were beautiful and made him feel like he was walking on air.

At the age of ten, there was Jess. He used to help her walk her dogs every day during the summer, and even though the little one would growl and nip at him whenever he got too close, he’d show up every day with a bottle of water and a smile.

At the age of fourteen, there was Jenna. She was the most popular girl in school while he was the scrawny kid that hung out in the library. She worked at the restaurant down the street from him after school and always gave him extra pickles with his sandwiches.

Then when he was seventeen, there was April. They would spend hours together reading and watching Disney movies. She wasn’t afraid to have fun, was carefree, and didn’t judge him for his hidden shelf of Harry Potter memorabilia.  

They were all normal, fun relationships and he enjoyed them because he was young and that’s what people are supposed to do when they are young.

They are _not_ supposed to happen at the age of thirty when he’s an adult and has control over his emotions. But with Emma Swan, all is thrown out the window.

He finds himself agreeing to things without thinking of the consequences.

Like going away with Emma for her job, not knowing she was following a possible adultier, or offering her to stay in his room where there would only be one bed and agreeing to share said bed, because _“They are fucking adults and it’s a king-sized bed where they both can fit.”_

Emma’s words.

Which is why he’s currently in the shower, his forehead pressed against the cool tile as the hot water cascades down his back. He likes to think of himself as a strong man, because after everything he’s been through, he’s still standing—but the second Emma emerged in those small shorts and tank top, he knew he was a _dead_ man.

He growls as he looks down at his crotch, knowing that if he doesn’t take care of his _problem_ , it’ll only get worse once they are in bed together. Wrapping his fingers around his cock, his hips jerk at the sensation and he has to bite back a moan.

It doesn’t take him long to find a good rhythm, and he’s just barely holding back from rutting into his hand without abandon. He’s already so hard, so close, the pleasure burning through him.

“ _Emma_ ,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

Placing his left hand on the tiles, he hunches forward with a low growl.

He pictures kneeling behind her as she bends over the bed, slowly biting his way up the back of her thighs. When he reaches the edge of her shorts, he pokes his tongue out to trace them and smacks her lightly on the arse when she lets out a gasp.

“Quiet now, my love.”

Not even having touched her yet, his mouth starts to water at the smell of her arousal. Using his teeth, he pulls at the fabric, holding it off to the side as he nibbles at the newly exposed skin. Her dripping core is inches away, but he holds himself back, wanting her shivering with need the same way he does whenever she’s around.

But then she’s moaning his name, and it’s all it takes for him to finally flatten his tongue against her.

The sensation starts at the tips of his toes before it makes its way through his entire body. Pinpricks tickle his face and there’s a tingling in his hand as he spills himself all over the shower wall. He has to bite his lip to suppress his moan and ignores the taste of copper that fills his mouth.

Barely able to hold himself up, he rests against the wall and squeezes his eyes shut, the aftershocks of his orgasm still running rapid through him.

All it took was imagining what she would taste like and it was all over for him.

Shaking his head, he pushes himself away from the wall and starts on the task of cleaning himself. It’s already late, so he knows there won’t be much happening for the rest of the night and truth be told, he’s tired.

The night before he had trouble sleeping. When Emma told him what her assignment was, he had flashbacks of his relationship with Milah, and though he’s finally come to terms with what happened, it still hurts.

He spent hours laying there, repeating to himself what David and Liam told him.

_“It wasn’t my fault. I’m enough.”_

When they first brought up him using that, he scoffed at them, shaking his head at the whole idea that a simple string of words repeated over and over could help. Then that night, after many drinks, he went into his bedroom, took the picture of Milah he had hidden in his drawer and set it a flame.

Tears blurred his vision as he let go of the demons of his past, the anger that he let dictate his life and opened himself up to new possibilities while repeating those words in his head.

In that moment those words truly helped ease the ache in his heart.

Hanging his towel, he pulls his sweats up and ties the strings of the waistband. He’s not one to usually sleep in anything but his underwear, but since he’s sharing a bed with Emma he thought it wouldn’t be wise to be so informal. Though he does forego wearing a shirt.

_It’s not as if she hasn’t seen you shirtless, mate._

When he walks out of the bathroom, he finds Emma sitting on the right side of the bed, her legs crossed with files scattered in front of her while she digs through her camera bag.

“What’s all this?” He asks, lifting the blanket and sliding in next to her. “Preparing yourself?”

She gives an almost embarrassed smile and shrugs. “I like to make sure everything is ready before I start.”

Picking up one of the files, he opens it to find what looks to be a schedule.

“Did he really give you her itinerary?”

“She’s a creature of habit,” Emma explains before blowing into the lens. “Pilates in the morning, lunch at the Marriott, salon appointment at two and back to the house for dinner at six, but for the past two Saturdays she’s been missing her salon appointment and coming home late.”

“And he’s aware of this how?”

He watches her put the camera back into its bag and place it on the ground before answering. “The salon called his house to make sure everything was okay last weekend when she didn’t show again.”

“Ouch,” he mumbles, yawning as he tosses the file forward.

“Tired?”

There’s another yawn and he lifts his hand to cover his mouth. “Apologies, just a tad. Haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Everything okay?”

Her voice is full of concern and it makes him smile. “‘s fine, love. No need to fret, just some things on my mind.”

“I can’t make you cookies here.” She gives a small shrug and it makes him laugh.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he mumbles, moving to lay down.

The bed isn’t as comfortable as his at home, but it does feel warmer, and he dares to believe it may have something to do with the blonde sitting next to him.

“Get some sleep.” There’s the sound of paper being moved around. “I’ll try not to make too much noise.”

He opens his mouth to tell her she doesn’t have to worry, but his eyes are heavy and it comes out more slurred than he attends. The next thing he knows, it’s morning. He’s always been an early riser; there was just something about watching the sunrise that he loved. The only downside is that on the days he _does_ wish to sleep in, he can’t, his internal clock automatically waking him up.

So when he wakes up just as the sun rises the next morning, he’s not surprised.

What _does_ surprise him is the person that’s wrapped around his body. Their legs are tangled together, her right hand is fisting his necklace while her face is buried in his neck. It’s been a long while since he’s woken with someone in his arms, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice.

He wishes for nothing more than to pull her close and stay there long into the morning, but he knows that is impossible. If Emma were to wake and find them wrapped around each other, she might not take too kindly to it.

Moving carefully, he wraps his arms around her and rolls them both until she’s on her back. He’s thankful that she doesn’t wake and presses his lips to her forehead before sliding out of the bed. He knows that she wishes to get a head start on the day so he decides to get dressed and fetch them something to eat.

* * *

“Going to show me a magic trick?”

Killian stops shuffling the cards and looks up to find Emma staring with small smile. Throwing her a smirk, he cuts the deck with one hand, moving his fingers perfectly to push them back together.

“I could,” he draws out, cutting the deck again as he watches her eyes stay locked on his fingers, “but shouldn’t you be paying attention to your building?”

There’s red tint that forms on her cheeks and his brow furrows before she shakes her head and looks back out the window of her bug. “I warned you this wasn’t very entertaining.”

Shrugging, he starts to shuffle the cards again. “Who says I’m not entertained? I happen to like watching you work, Swan.”

The water bottle she’s lifting to her lips stops for half a second before she takes a sip and mumbles, “You do?”

“Aye, do you know that your nose curls up when you’re concentrating? It’s positively adorable.”

The red tint returns, but she just rolls her eyes before looking back out the window. “Whatever,” she mumbles, but he can see the small smile she’s trying to hide.

She sits up a few moments later, lifting her camera and aiming it toward the building. The shutter sound fills the car and he smiles when he sees the nose curl he was previously speaking of.

“Damn.”

“What is it?”

Emma moves to focus the lens before she curses and drops the camera to her lap.

“There’s a glare coming from this angle. I can’t get a good shot.”

“Do we need to move?”

Looking around, she shakes her head. “No, I’ll…be right back.”

She’s gone before he has a chance to ask where she’s going, and he watches as she moves to a small alley directly across from the balcony. He wasn’t lying when he told her he enjoyed watching her work. It’s as if she goes off into her own little world, and how she manages to get in the mind of the person she’s following—when they first showed up, she all but predicted which street Hannah Bates would drive down and where she would park—is amazing.

He may have also taken a few pictures of her with his phone while she had her headphones on—

_“I can keep quiet, Swan, there is no need for the headphones.”_

_“Oh, these aren’t because of you. I wear headphones even when I’m by myself. The music helps me think.”_

—because the way she was mouthing the words to whatever music she was listening to was one of the sexiest things he’s ever seen.

She takes a few pictures before he sees her look toward the car and motion for him. With his eyebrow quirked, he reaches for the black cap she gave him before they left the hotel and steps out of the car. The streets aren’t crowded, but there is a high enough number of people that they could easily blend in without being noticed.

“Problems, love?

“There’s still a glare, I’m not tall enough,” she holds out her camera. “Would you mind?”

He smirks, a quip on the tip of his tongue about her climbing aboard so that she may be taller, but he holds back because he doesn’t think she’ll appreciate it as much while working.

“Not a problem.”

“Okay, if you just—”

Rolling his eyes, he takes the camera. “I know how to work it, Swan.”

With the extra height, he is able to get some clear photos, even if it does make him a little sick to his stomach. Perhaps he should have thought it through when she offered for him to stay behind, but once again, he didn’t think; he just wanted to be with her.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

He pulls the camera away from his face with his brows furrowed. She darts across the street, ignoring his question as to why—because what’s the point of telling him things? Rolling his eyes, he’s just about continue with the pictures when he sees her approach Mrs. Bates car.

“Swan—”

A couple walks down the street and he steps back into the alley, lifting his fist to his mouth and clenching his jaw. If he calls out, he risks someone catching her and then they are both in trouble. With his back against the brick wall, he figures he has two options: run across the street and drag her away from committing a bloody felony or keeping a weather eye to ensure she doesn’t get caught.

_Fat chance she’ll allow the first option to happen._

He grumbles as she opens the car door and lifts the camera again to make sure Hannah Bates is still at her table. Panic rushes through him as he sees that the couple is gathering their things, and he quickly puts the strap around his shoulder and rushes across the street.

“Swan, they’re coming out.” She doesn’t respond, just continues to look through receipts and he curses, “Bloody hell, love, I do not wish to call your brother or mine for bail money!”

“Two minutes.”

With a growl, he steps to the back of the car and looks at the restaurant entrance to find the couple just about to walk out.

“Emma!”

She jumps out of the car just as the woman exits.

“Kiss me.”

His eyes widen and he stutters out, “ _What_?”

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable, she’s not going to question why we are by her car too much if we’re kissing.”

Stepping back, he prepares to argue with her because of all the times he’s envisioned kissing Emma, it wasn’t for the purpose of hiding from one of her clients. He wants their first kiss to be special—to _mean_ something—but it seems he doesn’t answer quick enough, because the next thing he knows, she’s grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him to her.

The second their lips meet, everything around them disappears and it’s just them. He can feel every chain that’s restricted his heart start to rattle before each link crumbles to dust. His hand moves to capture the back of her head, his finger tangling in her hair as she presses herself more firmly against him. Her lips are warm and soft and when the tip of her tongue pokes out, he tilts his head, inviting her in.

She moans softly against him, and it’s all the encouragement he needs to press harder and pull her closer. His fingers tighten on her hip, slipping under her shirt to brush against her skin. Her warmth is surrounding him and all he can _think_ about is her.

When they pull back, her breath is hot on his lips and his forehead is pressed against hers. They are silent for what seems like eternity, and he’s just about to lean in to kiss her again when a voice calls out to them.

“Um, excuse me?”

A cold bucket of water washes over him, the fire burning through him turning to ice as he looks up to see Mrs. Bates standing there, a shy look on her face and her keys in her hand.

“Oh!” Emma gasps, her hands moving to his chest. “We are _so sorry_. Babe, I told you we had to go.”

He blinks, his heart is pounding, and he’s still trying to catch his breath while Emma smiles up at him. Her eyes widen slightly, pleading with him to speak, and he snaps back to reality.

“Apologies, love. You know how irresistible you are.”

She giggles before pushing herself up so they are no longer leaning against the woman’s car. “Come on, let’s go home, I’m starving. Sorry again!”

Mrs. Bates shakes her head with a small smile as she adjusts the strap of her purse. “It’s not a problem.” Just as she opens her car door, she calls out, “You two are cute.”

Emma takes a hold of his hand—his _left_ hand—and starts to pull him toward her car as the woman drives off. When she’s gone, Emma drops his hand and his steps falters as he lets out a breath with a little shake of his head.

“You okay?”

His eyes connect with hers for the first time since they’ve kissed and what he sees…confuses him. They give nothing away, as if they didn’t just experience something _earth shattering_ moments before and everything is normal. If he’s honest, it hurts. Kissing her was…he’s not even sure how he’s still standing and she’s…

“Just fine, Swan.”

They stare at each other for a moment. When he tries to get more out of her, she gives him the same unreadable smile before motioning to the restaurant.

“I’m just going to talk to my contact, I’ll be right back.”

He nods and she walks off without another word. When she’s gone, he releases a breath and leans back against her car with his fingers pressed to his lips. Part of him isn’t sure if the kiss actually happened or the heat is getting to him. Looking up, he sees she’s just about to enter the restaurant before she stops to look back at him with a hint of a smile.

Well, it wasn’t an illusion…it happened.

_Bloody hell._


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to lovely April for her editing on this & the wonderful Mandy for the beautiful banner.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: There is mention of miscarriage in this chapter. If this is something that is sensitive for you, please prepare yourself!
> 
> Double line breaks mean change of POV.

**Chapter Eight**

Emma has done a lot of dumb things in her life without thinking. When she was fourteen, before she met David, her and a friend broke into someone’s shore house after she ran away from foster care only to be caught and arrested that two nights later. When she was seventeen, she hotwired a car because Neal said she wouldn’t—she doesn’t back down from a challenge—and just last summer, she sprained her ankle jumping from a tree trying to scare Liam.

 _None_ of them were as dumb as kissing Killian.

What the actual fuck was she thinking? There were other things she could have done. Smarter things. _Safer_ things. Things that didn’t make her think about his lips every other second!

Now every time she speaks to him, her voice fumbles or she rambles on like a complete moron. He’s being a gentleman, not calling her out on it, but honestly, it’s only a matter of time before she says something stupid.

It’s not like she hasn’t kissed people for a random reason before. She thinks the last person was Whale; he wouldn’t leave Ruby and Dorothy alone, so she did it so they could escape the bar—when he didn’t stop, she kneed him in the groin and never thought about it again.

But with Killian, it’s _all_ she’s thinking about and it’s clear he isn’t. The smile he gives her is the same as any other, and his eyes sparkle with the same amusement as they always did when they speak. She knows he enjoyed it, she’s not _that_ stupid. It’s obvious he thinks she’s attractive—he wouldn’t have hit on her when they first met if he didn’t—but they are friends, and it seems even kissing won’t have him waver from that.

_Not like I want him, too!_

“Everything alright, love?”

She jumps at the feel of his hand on the small of her back and a puff of air passes her lips. Her cheeks heat up, and she brushes a strand of hair away from her face.

“Fine. Is our table ready?”

His head tilts, and he looks like he wants to say something, but keeps his mouth closed and nods, motioning forward. Mr. Bates called her just as they got back to the hotel to inform that his wife had an “unexpected dinner date” with her girlfriends. He was able to give her the location and Killian agreed to escort her.

When he walked out of the bathroom in those black dress slacks and silver button-up, she almost quit the whole thing because he was just too gorgeous to risk being in public.

Who knew how many deaths he could cause?

He pulls out the chair for her and it makes her swoon for a second before she attempts to crack a joke, “You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

“Well, this is our first date, Swan. It would be bad form if I was anything but a gentleman.”

Her lips press together as she tries to hide her smirk. “This isn’t a date, Jones. I’m working.”

“Are we not dressed nicely—you do look beautiful by the way, have I told you that?” He has, but she isn’t going to complain about hearing it again. “And we’re about to have a meal at a very posh restaurant. What else would you call it?”

“Working,” she repeats and his eyebrow ticks up. They stare at each other for a few seconds before she chuckles and places her elbows on the table. “Whatever. Fine, it’s a date.” The smile on his face is dazzling. “I don’t pillage and plunder on the first date just so you know.”

He brings his right hand up to his face, his forefinger pressed to his temple as he peers at her through his eyelashes with an almost _deadly_ look on his face. “That’s because you haven’t been out with _me_ yet.”

Her thighs clench together on their own, and she has a feeling that if they were in different circumstances…he would be right.

* * *

Mrs. Bates shows up twenty minutes after they arrive, and Emma is a little surprised to see that she is actually meeting with her girlfriends rather than the young guy they saw her with earlier.

“I wouldn’t fret too much about it, Swan,” Killian tells her as he stabs some salad onto his fork. “Could be just a ruse to get the husband off her scent.”

“How do you mean?”

He takes a sip of his wine, the red leaving a slight tint to his lips—not that she notices or anything. “Some women who are having an affair will make it appear as their lie is the truth, when in reality she is just having a few cocktails before meeting up with her lover.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she tilts her head. “I…never thought of that.”

“Have a least two drinks until you convince the person or persons watching so they’ll leave, then start your night.”

Picking a piece of bread up, she gives a shrug. “I guess we’ll have to wait then.”

He smiles. “Aye, it would appear so.”

* * *

“So what’s one of your worst dates?” She asks after the waiter returns with her second glass of wine.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been out on a date, love.”

“Oh, come on. We all have had bad dates.”

His eyes move over hers for a moment before he wipes his lips and nods. “As you wish. I took a lass out once, she was nice enough, but it was more so Liam would stop pestering me to put myself out there. Well, at the end of the night, I walked her to her flat and her door was stuck. I spent twenty bloody minutes trying to pry that blasted door open only to have it smack me square in the nose once it did. Ended up at the hospital for the rest of the night.”

She tries really hard not to laugh, because it must have been horrible to not only be forced to go on date but to also end up with a broken nose, but the wine she’s been drinking is making her feel lighter, and the look on his face is utter annoyance. He even reaches up to brush his fingers over the tip of his nose, flinching like he can still feel how painful it was.

“Alright, laugh it up, Swan,” he rolls his eyes while she laughs into her napkin. “What of yours? I’m sure you have an intriguing story to tell.”

“Um,” she tilts her head as she thinks for a moment. “Oh! One time, I went out on a date with a guy who wanted us to _share_ a dessert. I ended it right there, he wasn’t too happy about that. It turned into a yelling match and David had to bail me out of jail because I punched him in the face.” His brow is pinched together and she can tell he’s trying hard not to laugh. “I don’t share food.”

He snorts. “Don’t I know it.”

She giggles because the look on his face is just priceless.

* * *

It’s just as their dinner arrives that Mr. Bates walks in.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Emma grumbles, her jaw clenching and her anger starting to rise.

“Is that—”

“My client,” she huffs. “It looks like he couldn’t wait.”

Killian turns and gives a little nod. “So it would seem.”

With a sigh, she cuts into her steak. “It’s not the first time this has happened. The clients don’t like waiting for the answer, so they think by just showing up it’ll speed things along.”

“And does that usually work?”

“One time I had to get in between a wife and the secretary her husband was cheating with…I ended up with spaghetti down my dress.” He blinks and doesn’t say anything. “What?”

“Apologies, I was just envisioning that little scene in my head.”

She blushes but grins. “Would it help if I told you handcuffs ended up being involved, as well?”

He drops his fork onto the plate, reaching up to pinch his nose as he groans, “Bloody hell.”

A giggle escapes her lips before she moves her gaze back to her client. Hannah Bates looks surprised to see him, but quickly requests another seat for him to join her and her friends.

“Well there goes us ever knowing if this was a cover or not.”

“If it’s any consolation, Emma, I don’t think it was.”

She turns back to him with her brows furrowed. “How come?”

He motions around with his fork. “This restaurant is too open and highly populated.” When she raises her eyebrow in question, he continues, “Her husband is a well-known man in high society, if she were to bring someone here that she was having an affair with, surely it would get out.”

“Yeah, but what you said earlier made sense…”

With a shrug, he looks down at his food. “Doesn’t mean she was going to stay _if_ she was meant to meet with someone.”

“How do you know all this?” She watches as he starts to squirm in his seat before reaching forward and picking up his glass of wine. He’s nervous and she suddenly feels bad. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to—”

“Milah was married.”

Her mouth falls open and her brows go up because she wasn’t expecting that.

“Oh,” she breathes, still stunned over the fact that he shared something like that with her. “W-well, I mean, all marriages aren’t—”

“I was unaware of her marriage until a year into the relationship.”

“A year?” Her voice is hitch pitched, and her cheeks tint slightly before she leans forward and whispers, “Sorry. I’m just…Wow, that’s…what happened?”

He sips from his glass again before placing it on the table with a deep sigh. Remembering how angry he got the last time she asked about Milah, she’s about to tell him it’s okay when he starts.

“We met while Liam and I were in the hospital after the fire. She told me she was volunteering there. It wasn’t serious at first, although, now that I think about it, it was never really serious.”

“You guys were together for a year…it sounds pretty serious.”

“Two.”

Her brow furrows. “What?”

He clears his throat and mumbles, “We were together for two years.”

“Oh,” she whispers and his eyes move down.

Silence falls over them for a moment, him clearly embarrassed to admit that he stayed with a woman after he knew she was married and her not sure what to say. It’s not like she judges him, people do crazy things when they are in love. She should know.

With a sigh, he starts again, “She claimed her marriage to be an unhappy one, led me to believe she was waiting for the right time to leave.”

Bile starts to rise in the back of her throat, because the feeling of betrayal is something she’s all too familiar with. Loving someone and thinking that you know them…

“She lied,” she whispers, her thoughts lost in memories of her past.

“She lied,” he nods, rubbing his fingers on the base of his wine glass. “It seems I wasn’t the only _toy_ she had to play with.” When she pinches her brow in question, he does a half circle motion with his hand. “That’s what she called me and her other lovers.”

Shaking her head, she tries to keep her voice down and hisses, “Her _toy_? How much of an asshole is she?” She looks up to see him with his lips pressed together and winces. “Sorry. I know what it’s like to have people say bad things about someone you cared for and I didn’t…I just really would like to punch her in the face.”

He chuckles after taking another sip of wine. “You would have to get in line, love. Mary Margaret was all too colorful the other night about it. I think it was the first time a woman has ever made me blush with her language.”

She giggles at that, because not only does hearing her pure, sweet, sister-in-law curse make _anyone_ blush, but it also makes entire rooms go silent. She remembers the one time they were at a town meeting for the new stop sign on main street—because installing a stop sign requires a five-hour meeting where Leroy argues with Regina over the merits of having one—and Mary Margaret got so annoyed that she yelled for everyone to _“Shut the hell up!”_ You could hear a pin drop after that as they all stared at her in fear.

“She is pretty scary for such a small person. Did Liam ever tell you about the time she dragged him out of his office by his ear because he tried to work late on his birthday and she made him a dinner?”

That makes Killian laugh in the way she’s come to love. It’s the laugh that creases his cheeks and makes his eyes sparkle. He looks so young and carefree when he does it, and she’s finally able to admit to herself it’s why she spends most of her time trying to make him laugh.

She’s become addicted to it.

The waiter approaches just as their laughter dies down, asking if they want dessert. Killian raises his eyebrow at her in question and she shakes her head.

“I’m good.”

He tells the waiter they’ll take the check and he walks off. Killian clears his throat and sits forward, folding his hands in front of him.

“But it’s why all of this is familiar to me,” he continues, motioning around the restaurant. “I _was_ the other man. The unpopulated restaurants, the quick, hidden phone calls…”

“God, I’m so sorry, if I had known—”

He waves and cuts her off, “You’ve nothing to apologize for, love. You were unaware, as was I until I already agreed upon coming. It matters not though; this little trip has been… _enlightening_ to say the least.” She forces herself not to react at the memory of his lips on hers and drinks the last of her wine. “But I’m glad I came.”

“You are?” Her voice is full of uncertainty. “I thought it might be…I don’t know…weird?”

“It is,” he admits with a nod. “But just recently I learned that if I wish to move on, I must face what happened.”

“And do you want to…move on?”

His tongue pokes out to run over his bottom lip that’s stained red from his wine, a habit she’s noticed he does when he’s biding his time on answering something. She remembers the harshness on his face weeks prior whenever anyone would even attempt to ask him about his life before Storybrooke, how he would change the subject, but now he’s bringing it up without question.

“Aye,” he whispers. “I do.”

She swallows and her heart rate picks up. A sudden flash of him moving on with someone goes through her mind and a pit forms in the bottom of her stomach. Since almost the beginning, it’s been the two of them. He’s become the friend she didn’t even know she needed, and if he were to move on with someone, she’d lose him.

The thought of not having Killian by her side everyday like he has been hurts, but she would never want to stand in the way of him being happy.

Suddenly, she remembers what his lips felt like pressed against hers and she forces a smile. “That’s great.”

There’s something in his eyes that scares her, some truth she’s not ready to find out yet. Luckily, the waiter comes by again, placing the check down and taking their empty plates. Before she’s able to reach for it, Killian snatches it up, grinning at her sigh.

“I may have allowed you to pay for my lodging, but this one is on me. Deal with it.”

There’s an upturn of his lips, one that makes her think there’s more behind him paying for their dinner—something she’s not caught up to yet.

But something tells her it won’t be long until she is.

* * *

* * *

Killian taps his fingers against his lips. The TV is on, but he’s completely unaware of what it’s playing. Last he checked, it was some type of music channel. After they returned to the hotel, Emma spent twenty minutes on the phone with her client, chastising him for showing up when he was to stay away.

It was quite comical to hear her speak to a grown man as if he were a child, and oh, how he’s missed the red flush her face gets when she’s angry.

Once she was finished, she informed him there were some things she needed to finish and he offered to give her space to think, moving to the couch while she sat on the bed with her headphones in as she poured over the papers and photos.

He tries not to stare at her, he honestly does, but once they returned she changed out of her beautiful gray dress into those blasted shorts and too large t-shirt, her hair piled high on top her head the way he’s come to love, and he couldn’t help himself. Luckily, she was too distracted to notice.

He had hoped with his confession at the end of their meal, she would reveal how she felt about the dalliance that occurred between them, but she was blank as stone, continuing on as if nothing has happened or changed.

 _Everything has changed_.

His brow furrows when there’s another huff from behind him. It’s the third one he’s heard from her in a short time, and he’s starting to worry. Pushing himself off the couch, he walks over and calls out her name. She doesn’t answer, the headphones obstructing her hearing, so he leans forward and places his hand on her shoulder.

“Jesus!” She jumps and lets out a gasp, her hand moving to cover her heart. “Fuck, Jones, you scared the shit out of me.”

Reaching up to scratch at his ear, he cracks a smile. “Apologies, love. I did try calling for you.”

“Yeah, I…uh,” she shakes her head and pulls the buds out of her ears, “I get sort of zoned. Was I singing?”

“You sing?”

“No!” Her tone is high pitched and she answers far too quickly. He then makes it his mission to hear her sing no matter what it may take. “What’s up?”

“You seem vexed, I just wanted to offer my services.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and there’s a small hint of pink that flushes her cheeks. Tilting his head, he’s about to ask her what her blush is for when she breathes out a chuckle. “Um, I’m just trying to find something from the pictures I took earlier.”

“You were able to get them developed?” He reaches for them as she nods.

“Yeah, there’s this place not too far from here. They aren’t the best, but it helps when I’m in a hurry.”

They _aren’t_ the best, the colors seem off and there are spots that are a bit dark, but Mrs. Bates and her companion are clear as day. It seems that not even a small developer could hide Emma’s unwavering talent when it comes to taking a photograph.

There’s movement, and he looks to see her try and cover her yawn as her eyes close for a brief second. It’s not hard to see she’s tired, it’s close to midnight after all, but something tells him that she’ll refuse sleep.

“How may I help? I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

Even without her looking his way, he just _knows_ her eyes roll, and it makes him smile.

“What’re the chances you’ll take that pretty face of yours and get me a coffee?”

His smirk widens. “You _must_ be tired, because I think you just agreed I had a pretty face.” She doesn’t react to his words, just continues to move her eyes over the photo in her hands. “Love?” Still no response. Leaning forward, he sees her eyes droop before she catches herself and shoots back up. With a nod, he reaches forward and places his hands over hers. “It’s time for a rest, Swan. You’ve been looking over these for an hour and a half. We have all day tomorrow.”

He can tell she wants to argue as she presses her lips together, but at his raised eyebrow she relents with a sigh, nodding, before wrapping her headphones around her phone and tossing it to the side. Her shoulders are still tense, and he wishes for nothing more than to sooth her, but he fears if he touches her he won’t be able to stop.

“You alright?” He asks, sitting down next to her.

“I just want to catch her.”

“You will.”

When she looks up at him, her eyes sparkle with a hint of wonder and what he thinks may be gratitude. “You really think so?”

He gives her a shy smile with a slight shrug. “I’ve yet to see you fail.”

The pink that he loves so much returns to her cheeks as she looks down to her lap. They sit in silence for a few moments, her avoiding his gaze while he watches. The tension is still evident in her shoulders, and he tries to think of what could be vexing her. It’s more than just not catching the woman at dinner; it started after she ended her phone call and slowly started to build.

“I’m sorry about what Milah did to you,” she starts softly, her fingers picking at something on the bed spread. “No one should deal with that.”

His head tilts and his brow pinches together. Her response wasn’t one he was expecting, and though he appreciates the sentiment, he knows her better than to believe it was what she really wished to say.

“Emma.” His voice is low and he waits until her eyes connect with his. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes move back and forth over his face before she lets out a large sigh and rubs her thighs.

“Mr. Bates told me he’s not sure he wants to continue. It happens sometimes, they spend some time with their spouse and they want to believe that they aren’t cheating…it’s just a little frustrating.”

“Surely you have something in your contract stating you’ll still get paid?”

She nods, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, but it’s not about the money. I just…He’s not thinking clearly. I got him to agree to give me until tomorrow, but there’s something going on here, I can feel it.”

“Trust your gut, Swan. It will tell you what to do.”

The look she gives him is one he’s come to love; Her brows are pinched together like she’s confused as to why he would be saying such a thing, but her lips show just a hint of a smile.

Her eyes move back to the papers, and she mumbles, “My gut is telling me she’s definitely hiding something, I just don’t know what it is... “

“Then,” he places his hand over hers to stop her fidgeting, “we’ll figure out. Together.”

Silence falls over them, the only sound coming from the music on the TV, and he’s worried he might have said the wrong thing. If there is one thing he’s learned about Emma, it’s that she prefers to do things herself and rarely asks for help. He’s lucky she hasn’t thrown him a dirty look or snipped at him that she doesn’t need his help.

“His name was Neal,” Emma whispers and his head snaps up. She’s staring at their hands, but he knows she’s not actually seeing them. “I was seventeen when we first met and he was… _older_. David despised him and Ruth tolerated him.”

The corners of his mouth twitch because he’s reminded of his own situation with Milah, where Liam despised her and David was the one that tolerated her.

“We were together for five months before I got pregnant.”

His mouth falls open and he sits up. Shock doesn’t even begin to describe what he’s feeling. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Emma had been hurt by someone in her past, but this—

“He was so mad,” she whispers. “We fought for hours...but there was a choice we had to make. We could either put the baby up for adoption or keep it and raise it ourselves.” She takes a breath, shaking her head before running her hands through her hair. “I was in the system for fifteen years, and even though I wasn’t ready to be a mother, I wasn’t sure I wanted to put my child through what I went through.”

“That’s understandable,” he mumbles.

Her head tilts and she shrugs. “I thought so…” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “It was getting late, so he told me he would pick me up from school the next day, and we would figure out what we were going to do.”

His brow furrows because he has a feeling he’s not going to like what happens next.

“Two weeks later I had a miscarriage.” Her voice is distant and her eyes are glassy. “David found me curled up on the bathroom floor and had to take me to the hospital. Ruth was away visiting her sister for the weekend…” She sniffles. “I didn’t want to disappoint her...so I begged him not to say anything, and he never did.” There’s a low chuckle that passes her lips. “I think I fell in love with him a little bit that day.”

He smiles despite the sadness he feels, because he’s happy she had someone there for her in such a dark time in her life, but angry it happened in the first place.

His voice is low and dark when he asks, “And what of Neal…what did he say?”

She lets out a long huff and runs her hand down her face. He can tell by the way she’s rolling her shoulders that it’s not going to be good.

“I waited outside of school for two hours before I finally walked to his apartment…” She trails off and looks down before reaching up to wipe her nose. “He was gone—left in the middle of the night. I haven’t heard from him since.”

His jaw clenches, and he remembers how upset she got at the thought of Liam choosing how Belle should feel about their relationship. He knew then it was because of something that had to do with her past, but he had no idea—shaking his head, he opens his mouth to say… _something_ , he’s just not sure what. Terrified to say the wrong thing—like how he wants to find this Neal character and rip him to shreds—he closes his mouth and moves an inch toward her.

Her eyes are glassy and hesitant, almost like the slightest thing is going to make her run, so he lets out a breath and mumbles, “Bloody fool he was.”

She doesn't say anything, just presses her lips together and gives a small nod. In all the time he's known her, she's been nothing but strong, never letting her walls crumble. Now she looks as if she's barely holding it together, and it breaks his heart.

A new song begins on the TV and he’s suddenly hit with an idea. All he wants to do is see her smile, and though he may look like a right arse, he has to try. Pushing himself up, he places his hand over hers and pulls her up with him. A look of confusion crosses her features as he runs his hands down her arms until her hands are in his.

He starts out slow at first, pulling her arms back and forth to the beat of the song while he sways his hips. A few moments pass before she eventually breathes out a small chuckle and presses her lips together in a forced smile.

_Well, that just won’t do._

Lifting his hands, he twirls her in a circle once, twice, three times before she lets out a giggle, and he smiles so wide, it’s almost painful. There’s another giggle as he pulls her close, wrapping his left arm around her waist and holding his right out to guide them.

Their bodies move well together, wiggling around in longer strokes and he even dips her back slightly, making her laugh loudly. They look absolutely ridiculous, moving faster than the pace of the music, but the look of pure happiness on her face makes it all worth it.

When she presses her lips against his shoulder, he tilts his head to touch hers and lets out a content sigh.

After a moment, he whispers into her hair, “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Neither did you.”

Since Milah left him, he believed himself to be broken, incapable of letting go of her and the pains of his past and leaving him unable to ever care for or love again. He knows now that he was wrong.

Completely and irrevocably _wrong._

* * *

* * *

Emma has always hated sleeping with men. Well, the _actual_ sleeping part. The sex, she has no problem with; she’s always believed that a woman should embrace her own sexuality and not be ashamed of it.

But the _actual_ sleeping part…she hates it.

There’s hair pulling, blanket hogging, and breathing difficulties when the person decides to roll over on top of you.

But with Killian…it’s different.

Thursday night, he fell asleep so soundly while she worked, she couldn’t help but take a few pictures. When she finally laid down herself, he let out a hum before he stretched his arm out to place on her waist.

It was light and felt like it _belonged_ there, so she didn’t move away from him. So it doesn’t surprise her in the least when she wakes up Friday morning to find herself wrapped up around him. Her head is resting on his chest, his is buried in her hair. The warmth radiating off his body makes her want to curl into him more and never leave, but she knows it’s better to move before he wakes.

Just because she enjoys being wrapped around him like a monkey doesn’t mean he would.

_Friends, Emma, that’s all you are!_

Placing her hand on his chest, she lightly pushes herself up, careful not to wake him and looks forward. They fell asleep talking the night before with all of her files and pictures still at the foot of the bed. Honestly, she’s surprised they didn’t fall off. She’s been known to move around in her sleep, but it seems with Killian next to her, she stayed still.

She thinks about all that they revealed to each other and it makes her almost shiver. They were both so open and raw—she told him things she’s never told anyone before, and she saw nothing but compassion and understanding from him without a hint of judgement.

Their stories are different, but the way they both handled them are the same. They’ve cut themselves off from others because it’s easier than being burned again, but while he wants to move on, Emma is terrified to. What if the person she moves on with leaves her just as Neal did?

_Killian wouldn’t leave._

With a shake of her head, she squashes that thought down and moves to clear the bed. Gathering the pictures, she’s just about to shove them into a folder when one catches her eye. It’s the one she took of Mrs. Bates and her mystery man out to lunch the day prior. There’s nothing significant happening, they are just sharing a meal and laughing, but she reaches for it anyway.

“Swan?” Killian’s voice is husky with sleep, and it makes her jump slightly. She feels him sit up and goosebumps run throughout her when his chest brushes her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you see here?”

He places his left hand behind her to support himself as he reaches for the picture. “Um, she’s having lunch.”

“Yes, but do you notice anything?” He shrugs and she licks her lips. “I was thinking about something you said last night—” His eyes snap up to her. “—about whenever you and Milah would go out together.”

“Aye, it was always someplace dark and unpopulated.”

“Right.” She moves closer, making the hair on his chest tickle the back of her arm. “But this place is out in public, during the day, on a fucking balcony no less. I seriously doubt if she was having an affair, it would be this publicized.”

His eyes move over the photo for a moment before a smile tugs at his lips. “I think you’re onto something, Swan.”

His words make her stomach flutter before she breathes out a soft chuckle and pushes herself out of bed.

“I have work to do.”

* * *

It’s late by the time they make it back to Storybrooke, but she's not tired, still geared up from what happened.

Her and Killian decide to watch a movie. With Liam still being out with Belle and the “Charming’s,” as Killian has taken to calling her brother and his wife, probably sleeping, they choose his apartment.

“You just don’t want to climb the bloody stairs,” teases Killian.

“You can’t prove that.”

It’s funny how much her body relaxes as soon as she steps foot into the building, and how walking into Killian and Liam’s apartment is like walking into her own. She tosses her bag onto the couch and picks the remote up without question.

“You want to see what’s on Netflix?”

“Do we have Netflix?” He calls out from his bedroom.

Rolling her eyes, she puts the remote back down and heads down to his room.

“Um, yes,” she leans against the doorway with a small smile. “You’ve lived here for three months now, how do you not know this?”

“Because the only time I watch anything is when the lot of us are together, or when I wish to distract myself from my own thoughts.”

Her brow furrows because just the night before he insisted on watching TV while she looked over her files, then she remembers how it was after he told her about Milah and her heart aches just a little. If she had known about his past, she would have insisted he stay behind because it took her _years_ to be able to comfortably work a case with cheating and betrayal. It still gets to her sometimes, even when they do end with happiness like this one did.

She was right in thinking something was going on with Hannah Bates; there was, just not what she thought. The person the young housewife had been meeting with was Tristan Marshall, a trust fund baby that was selling the yacht he purchased because he’d “grown out of it.” It was a present she was buying her husband for his birthday the following month.

So when Mr. Bates called again to tell her he wanted the investigation to stop, she agreed without argument, deciding to allow the husband to learn about the surprise when his wife reveals it to him.

“I wanted to thank you for coming with me. If you hadn’t, it might have turned out differently.”

There’s a soft smile on his lips as he shrugs. “Happy to help.”

He begins to unpack his bag as her eyes move around the room. Since he moved in, she’s only seen it once when they were helping him with his furniture. It had been bare, just a room with a bed. Now, it’s lived in.

There’s a painting of the sea hanging on the wall, shelves that hold different candles—

_“I find candlelight far better than the harshness of a lamp, Swan.”_

_“I swear you’re like two hundred years old.”_

—and little knick-knacks lying about. On his dresser is the picture she restored of Liam and him from when they were younger and a picture of the six of them from when they went swimming at Regina’s. Walking over to it, she brushes her thumb against the frame. It’s one of her favorites, because they all look so happy…

Mary Margaret and David are wrapped up in each other’s arms, Belle is leaning her head on Liam’s shoulder while Emma is on Killian’s back.

Smiling, she takes a step back when she sees something out of the corner of her eye. There in the trash beside his dresser is a pile of black ash, with crumbled, burnt pieces of paper mixed in with it. She knows it’s not from a cigarette—she hasn’t seen him smoke since that night on her balcony when he went to go light one and, as a joke, she snatched it away without so much as a glance. Her lips twitched as she forced herself not to laugh, and she waited for him to argue, but it never came. Instead, she watched from the corner of her eye as he stared at her for a moment with a small smile before he placed the pack in his pocket.

She hasn’t seen him with a cigarette since.

She doesn’t ask him about it. Just because they opened up to each other after a couple glasses of wine doesn’t mean she’s entitled to know what’s going on with the items in his trash can.

_And made out like horny teenagers._

Her eyes flicker over to him and she presses her lips together. He’s looking down at his phone, his thumbs moving across the screen, and she takes that moment to look him over. His lips are slightly parted and his jaw ticks ever so slightly, making the ginger in his scruff seem like it’s almost sparkling when the light hits it.

She remembers how that scruff felt against her face, the side of her mouth is still slightly sensitive.

Every once in a while, she’ll poke her tongue out to rub over the raw flesh, the tiny sting reminding her that it was real…even if it was done just to keep them from getting caught. Suddenly, she wonders what it would be like to kiss him under normal circumstances.

“Do you want to take your bag upstairs before we start the film?”

She snaps out of her thoughts to find him standing before her. _When did he move?_

“I’m sorry, what?”

The side of his mouth lifts and his eyes move over her. “Everything alright, love?”

Her heart starts to pound in her chest as he takes a step closer. His scent invades her, and it’s not until he moves to place his hand on her arm that she reacts. Moving her hands to his face, she pulls him to her and presses her lips to his. It takes him a millisecond before he catches on, his phone dropping to the floor and his arms wrapping around her body.

At first, it’s just their lips pressed hard together, his fingers digging into her back while hers squeeze his face, but then she opens her mouth and her tongue flicks against his lips, begging for the entrance she desperately wants.

The next thing she knows her feet are lifted in the air and her body is captured between his and the door as she’s pushed backward and pinned. He groans as their tongues slide against each other and her fingers move to the back of his head. There’s no space between them and she’s starting to get dizzy from lack of air— _breathing is overrated anyway,_ she’ll gladly pass out if it means he’ll keep kissing her.

They are both panting when they pull apart, and he rests his forehead against her own. Her lips are numb, the door knob is digging into her back, and her fingers cramp when she loosens them from his hair, but she doesn’t care because all she can think about is kissing him again.

“Killian, we—”

“Bloody hell, say it again.” Her brow furrows as he brushes his lips against hers again. “My name…Say it again.”

“Killia—”

He doesn’t let her finish as he suddenly pulls her to him, his lips on hers again. Her body melts against his and her arms wrap around his shoulders. Kissing him is like heaven itself, one touch of his lips and she forgets everything.

His warmth is all around her and all she can think about is _him_. Sliding her tongue across his, they begin to move, his hands cupping her face and hers gripping his hips. They don’t break apart until he falls back onto the bed, and even then, it’s only a moment before she climbs into his lap, straddling his legs before pulling his mouth to hers again.

She can feel him everywhere, but it’s still not enough—he’s still too far away. Her fingers scratch at his shirt; it’s sky blue and she loves the way it looks on him, but now she wants it off. He seems to get the hint because he pulls back and reaches behind him, pulling his shirt up over his head and giving her time to do the same.

Their lips mold back together and her hips grind against him as his fingers run across her skin. She can feel how ready he is, making her mouth water and her core throb. Her fingers tremble as she works on his belt, and when he tries to speak, she silences him by sucking his tongue into her mouth.

Clothes disappear in the blink of an eye, and the next thing she knows she’s sinking down on him. He throws his head back while hers lowers to his shoulder as a deep moan escapes them both.

“Bloody amazing,” he moans, his fingers digging into her hips.

With a deep breath, she begins to move against him and lifts her head to kiss him again. She clenches her muscles around him, eliciting another groan as his hands slide up her back and into her hair. Each moan, each tug of his fingers encourages her, and she grinds herself down, rocking harder and making her clit rub against him in the most delicious way.

“God, Killian.”

His hands move to her shoulders, pulling her down as he thrusts up. “That’s it, love. Let me hear you.”

She’s panting as her nails indent his biceps, and she can already feel herself reaching the edge. It’s really no surprise—they’ve been engaging in foreplay since the moment they’ve met, really—especially the way he’s grinding up against her...If only he would just move to the—

A loud gasp passes her lips and he grins. “There’s a lass.”

Her body starts to quiver and she swallows, unable to form words as pleasure overtakes her. Killian leans back to look down at where they are connected, his brow furrowed as he licks his bottom lip. He’s mumbling words to her, words that make her pant, that make her entire body feel like it’s on fire, but all she can do is nod.

Throwing her head back, she lets out a loud cry as her orgasm hits her before she realizes. There’s no noise, only the sound of her pulse echoing in her ears as her entire body goes tense. It’s the most intense pleasure she’s ever experienced in her entire life, and when it’s finally over, she collapses on top of him, her limbs completely useless, her brain a puddle.

She doesn’t even realize he’s moving them until she feels the sheets on her back and his lips on her neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “An angel.”

Her legs wrap around his waist and her hips lift in time with his thrusts. His cock is hitting new places and, _fuck_ , the way he’s sucking on her neck is making her writher.

“K-Killian,” she moans, her nails clawing at his back. “Harder.”

He grunts in response before pulling his hips back and slamming down. She lets out a choked gasp and begs him to do it again. The bed is creaking underneath them, but she can barely hear it over the sounds they are both making.

“So wet and tight,” he sighs, his voice husky and warm against her lips. “Will you come for me again?”

There’s a jolt of electricity that runs through her veins, and it’s as if her body has a mind of its own, because she feels the familiar spark in the pit of her stomach.

“More—God, please.”

“Bloody hell,” he whispers as he takes her leg and hooks it over his right elbow.

She tries to hold off, but her body is humming and her thighs are shaking before she can even begin to try. Her second peak is longer and her back arches as he sucks her nipple into his mouth.

The things he’s able to do with just the tip of his tongue should be illegal.

He groans her name and his thrusts start to become erratic. Moving her hands down to his ass, she grips him tight and pulls him into her. His body convulses and she does her best to clench her muscles, squeezing him until he collapses on top of her. He’s heavy and his breath is hot against her neck, but she doesn’t want to move because for the first time in a long while, she feels warm, she feels safe…

She feels loved.

* * *

Emma wakes the next morning feeling warm and content. There’s a smile on her lips that won’t go away, and her body feels more relaxed than she ever remembers it feeling before. She’s just about to snuggle further into her pillow when an arm wraps around her, and it all comes crashing back.

Her hand shoots up to her mouth and her heart starts to pound in her chest. The night before, she didn’t think about anything other than the feeling of his body against hers, but now in the harsh light of day, she realizes exactly what she’s done: she’s had sex with her best friend.

“Emma…” Killian’s voice is low and thick with sleep. “What’s the matter, love?”

Before she can answer, there’s a knock on his bedroom door, followed by Liam’s voice and the sound of the handle being jiggled. She jumps up in a panic and just barely gets the sheet wrapped around her body while he pulls his boxers up over his hips.

“Don’t come in here, you git!”

She starts to search for her clothes, picking them up one by one, but keeps tripping over the sheet.

“Bloody hell, are you having a morning wank?”

That makes her stop and stare at the door with her mouth parted. She’s never heard Liam be so crude before, and it stuns her for a second.

Killian’s jaw clenches as he stomps over to the door and growls, “Piss off!”

She quickly pulls her shorts up and buttons them before slipping into her flip flops. When she looks up, Killian is approaching her, and she starts to panic again.

“Emma, just wait a moment,” he whispers. “He won’t come in here, you have my word.”

Opening her mouth, she’s cut off when Liam calls out again, “David will be here any minute for breakfast, hurry your arse up and join us, will you?”

Her eyes widen at that and she moves over to the window.

“Emma,” he reaches out to touch her arm and she stops, “ _please_.”

Hanging half out the window, her heart starts to break. She can see uncertainty in his eyes, and she wishes she could say something to make him feel better, but she just _can’t._ Liam knocks on the door again and Killian’s head falls. With one final glance, she forces herself out the window and rushes up to her own apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Emma and Killian dance to is "Fooled Around and Fell In Love" By Elvin Bishop :D


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A-cakes is my rock who edits the hell out of this for me. i love that bitch and Mandy is the patron saint of chest hair who makes beautiful banners. i love her, too!!! Here’s the next chapter of The reason! Hope you like it. Also, I may be able to post next week. We’ll see :D

****

**Chapter Nine**

Emma spends two days held up in her apartment with her door closed and her windows sealed shut—it’s probably the first time she’s ever used the air conditioner if she really thinks about it. Luckily, everyone knows she likes to take some time to herself after a case so she doesn’t have to deal with anyone pounding her door down, wondering why she’s avoiding the downstairs like the plague.

Killian doesn’t even attempt to speak to her…not that she cares…

_Liar._

With a huff, she rolls over and hugs her pillow closer to her body. Honestly, if he did contact her, she wouldn’t know what she would say to him. She hasn’t stopped thinking about what happened between them; it haunts her every waking moment, and the few times she does get to sleep, she wakes up writhing, her body aching to be touched by his again.

It’s not like she hasn’t had good sex before, but sex with Killian…Fuck. Her body is actively _craving_ for more, and it scares her. She doesn’t do relationships, they are just too much work, so she sticks to one-night stands and dating. It’s just easier that way.

But how can that be possible with her best friend?

Sighing, she closes her eyes, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep when she hears her front door open, followed by her brother’s voice.

“Emma?”

She jumps up out of bed and rushes into the living room, worry flowing through her. Since she got back, she’s left her phone off out of fear she would be weak and call Killian.

Not the smartest decisions, she knows, but it’s not like her head is working properly at the moment.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyebrow is raised and his hands are on his hips. “Were you planning to come back to the land of the living any time soon?”

Her shoulders sag and she rolls her eyes. “I was trying to get some rest.”

“We tried calling,” he tells her as she walks toward her kitchen. “We’re having a meeting about the party Friday, you going to come down?”

Everything inside of her screams to say no, because there’s no way she can face Killian right now—what the fuck would she say to him and oh _god_ , why did she decide to wear her duckling sleep shorts? Not to mention her hair is just a knotted mess on top her head, and there’s a hole at the bottom of the tank top she’s wearing. Maybe she can convince David to give her—

“Earth to Emma!” Her eyes snap up to see him waving his hand in front of her face. “Did you hear me?”

“Y-Yeah,” she clears her throat. “Yes. I heard you…Meeting about the party.”

Her heart slams against her chest as his head tilts and his brows furrow. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, why?” She answers too quickly and has to hold back her wince.

Thankfully, he doesn’t call her out on it, and she brushes a piece of hair away from her face before following him out into the hall. With every step she takes, she has to force herself not to run back into the apartment. There are butterflies fluttering around in her stomach, her hands are shaking, and it only gets worse when she finally sees Killian.

He’s leaning back against the wall, his right leg crossed over his left with his arms folded over his chest. He’s wearing a button-up shirt that’s undone, revealing the tight, black tank top underneath. There’s a hint of chest hair peeking out, and it makes her mouth water. She’s suddenly hit with the memory of how it felt brushing against her nipples and they go hard instantly.

Her arms quickly cross over her chest in fear they will show and her cheeks burn.

“There you are!” Mary Margaret gasps. “You know, these little breaks you take after a case are starting to get longer and longer. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were avoiding us.”

No matter how hard she tries to fight it, her gaze snaps up toward Killian to find him staring back at her, but what she sees isn’t what she expects. He should be angry; she ran out of his room as soon as she woke up, even when he was pleading with her to stay. That’s what she _should_ see. She shouldn’t see a flash of what appears to be happiness before they flicker with hesitation.

Looking away, she shakes her head and gives a shrug. “I was just tired, Mar.”

There’s a coffee set aside for her, and she doesn’t have to take the lid off to know it has the right amount of cream and sugar inside, nor does she have to ask who did it.

“Thanks,” she mumbles while bringing the cup to her lips.

“You’re welcome.”

It’s not until that moment that she realizes how much she’s _missed_ his voice. The way his low tone makes everything around them almost vibrate and the sweet sound of his accent rolling off of his tongue like words were invented just so he would be able to speak them.

Mary Margaret breaks them out of their little bubble, and she curses herself for getting lost around him again. He has the uncanny ability to make her forget about everything and everyone around her and she needs to learn to get over it.

What happened between them was amazing, wonderful, _sinfully so_ , but it can’t happen again. He’s one of her best friends; she’s become close to him in a way she never thought possible. Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean she can trust him with her heart.

People don’t love her, they leave her, and she doesn’t want Killian to leave.

Which is why she has to figure out a way for them to get back to how they were before.

Moving back to the steps, she sits down as Mary Margaret and Liam go over the grocery list. If any of them notice that her and Killian stay far away from each other, they don’t comment. David even moves to speak to him rather than sit with her, and it makes her happy. If anyone deserves to have friends at the moment, it’s Killian. He isn’t the one that completely fucked up _their_ friendship. She really can’t blame him for going along with a girl throwing herself at him.

_It has nothing to do with that and you know it._

She ignores the voice in her head that sounds an awful like the British man standing across from her and sips her coffee.

A half an hour into the meeting, Emma is about ready to crawl out of her skin. Mary Margaret has gone over the grocery list twice already and Killian continues to stare at her. She hasn’t looked his way, but the feel of his gaze is heavy. It makes her skin heat up and her stomach flutter, because she remembers the way he looked at her while she was on top of him, the way his eyes rolled back into his head when she swiveled her hips, and the way they darkened when she reached her peak.

Shivering, her eyes snap up when Liam and David start to move.

“Alright,” David interrupts his wife. “Hun, Liam and I have to get to work. We’ll make sure everything is ready for the party.”

Mary Margaret’s shoulders sag, but she gives a nod and a smile. “Okay. Sorry, I didn’t realize how long I’d been going off for. Go, Emma, Killian and I can finish up here.”

Bile rises to the back of her throat because she remembers how just before they left for her case that was the plan. The three of them would get everything together since they would have no other obligations.

“Are you going to make your cookies, lass?” Liam’s eyes sparkle as he rubs his hands together.

Rolling her eyes, she opens her mouth to answer when Mary Margaret cuts her off, “You know, I make desserts, too!”

David pulls his wife close, kissing her temple as Liam turns to her, a handsome smile gracing his lips. “Of course I do, darling. Your cakes are positively delicious, I was just asking due to the special occasion…liberty, freedom and all.”

Emma tilts her head with her brow furrowed. “You’re British.”

Killian chuckles from his spot, making her blush, and Liam gives a closed mouth smirk eerily similar to the one his little brother gives her from time to time and says, “That matters not.”

She snorts as Liam leans in to press his lips against her cheek before he whispers, “Cookies.”

Patting his arm, she gives a slight nod that she’s heard him before he heads down the steps. Again, she can feel Killian’s eyes on her, though she acts as if she doesn’t notice, saying goodbye to David and whispering for him to be safe.

Storybrooke rarely has crime, the most David does is place parking tickets around town and break up a few fights at the bars over the weekend, but it’s something she says every time he leaves for work.

He gives her a wink before walking off, and a soft smile appears on her face. It’s not often she questions if dealing with things by herself is the best way. It’s hard for her to open up to people, but as she watches her brother leave, she feels the sudden urge to run after him, to ask him what she should do about Killian, because she can’t trust her own gut anymore. She’d lay her head in his lap, and he would say the right thing and everything would be better.

Then she remembers he probably wouldn’t appreciate the fact that his sister slept with his best friend, and she frowns.

She really did screw up everything.

“Do you guys mind going shopping?” Emma whips around to stare at her sister-in-law with wide eyes. “I would come, but Jasmine’s asked me to cover her summer school class this afternoon. I should be back before dinner.”

Emma has to physically hold herself back from looking to Killian and takes the list. “It’s fine, I can go myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mary Margaret waves. “There’s too much and it’ll be a lot easier with two people. You don’t mind, do you, Killian?”

“Not at all, milady.”

“Great. I’ll have my cell on me if you need anything.”

Mary Margaret is gone before she can protest, and her eyes close in frustration. Even if Mary Margaret hadn’t rushed off, she doesn’t really know what she would have said against it, because it’s not like she can tell them the truth.

“What time do you wish to leave?”

“Um, you know what,” she turns to him and gives a shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle this myself.”

His eyebrow quirks up and her lips press together. Why does his face have to be so frustratingly attractive?

“Not that I’m doubting your skills, love, but that’s quite the list. I’ll be happy to—”

“I got it.”

A flicker of annoyance flashes across his face as he takes a step back and loops his thumb through his pants.

“So that’s how this is going to be?” His left hand lifts to make a half circle motion in the air and his voice drips with anger. “You’re just going to avoid spending time with me and hope no one notices?”

Anger courses through her, and she bites the inside of her cheek. Okay, it was stupid to assume he wouldn’t catch on to what she was doing, but did he really have to call her out on it?

“I _got_ it,” she hisses through clenched teeth.

Silence falls between them and they stand there staring at each other. After a few moments, she raises her brow to challenge him to continue. Luckily, he backs down with a shake of his head.

“As you wish.”

* * *

The grocery store was a _nightmare_. Who would have thought it would be packed three days before the Fourth of July, and does Leroy have to yell whenever he speaks? She barely gets out without killing someone. Eric is a sweet guy, but if he kept telling her about the fresh fish they had for sale, Ariel was going to be a widower before the day was out.

It doesn’t help that it’s _ungodly_ hot out, and by the time she’s done packing her trunk with the groceries, there’s a bead of sweat trickling down her back and her arms are tired. She ignores the voice that tells her it would have been easier with another person and wipes her hands down her shorts.

Eventually, yes, she’s going to have to talk to Killian again. The rest of them may not have noticed the awkwardness between them _today_ , but they’re going to notice if it keeps happening. Getting into her car, she hisses at the heat of the leather on her skin and starts the engine.

In all honesty, she does miss Killian. She’s lost count how many times she picked up her phone to text him when she saw something on TV or went to tag him in a funny meme on Instagram. It’s her second nature and now she has to fight against it because of her stupid actions.

She argued for hours with herself that it was a mistake, but it didn’t _feel_ like a mistake. It felt…right. With a little growl, she brushes a strand of hair away from her face and tries to clear her mind. It’s thoughts like that that got her into this mess in the first place.

Looking in the rear-view mirror, she notices smoke starting to bellow out from under the hood and her eyes go wide.

“What the—”

Suddenly, the car starts to jerk, and she’s just barely able to pull to the side of the road before it stops completely. Jumping out, she rushes back to pop the hood and is instantly hit in the face with a cloud of smoke.

Her hand waves around as she coughs and tries to clear the air around her. She can barely see the engine and when she moves for the hood support rod, she over reaches, making her hand brush against the engine.

“Son of a bitch!”

She jumps back, cradling her burnt hand against her chest as the hood slams shut. The inside of her palm stings, and the smoke continues to rise from the edges of the hood. Kicking the tire in frustration, she reaches into her back pocket for her phone with the intention of calling David or Liam before she stops.

If she calls either of them, they are going to question why she isn’t calling Killian. She’s supposed to be acting as if nothing’s happened between them, so why wouldn’t she call her best friend who is a mechanic when her car decides to smoke up like it’s at a rave?

Shaking her head, she finds his contact in her phone, the corners of her lips tugging up at the picture. There’s a big goofy smile on his face and he’s giving a thumbs up. He sent the picture last month after she texted that she made a special batch of cookies just for him and she saved it right away. Hitting the call button, she leans back against her car and waits. For a second she fears he’s not going to answer and she wouldn’t blame him, but after the fourth ring, he finally does.

“Emma?”

“Hey,” she mumbles, a sudden wave of nervousness washing over her.

He’s silent for a moment before he clears his throat. “What’s wrong?”

His response makes her angry. It’s as if he automatically knows that she’s not calling just to talk and she wants nothing more than to huff out ‘ _nothing_ ’ and hang up, but then she would have to figure out how to fix her fucking car herself, and she’s not too keen on walking back to the apartment with twenty grocery bags.

“My car broke down.”

She can hear him moving before she’s even done speaking.

“Where are you?”

Looking around, she mumbles, “Apple Street. I don’t know what’s wrong, it just started to smoke and then it…died.”

“I’ll be right there…Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she looks down at her hand with a slight frown. There’s a round patch that’s pink and stings, but she’ll live. “I’m fine.”

Not ten minutes later, Killian is pulling up behind her bug in David’s truck, and she lets out a sigh of relief. He’s there faster than she anticipated and it makes her wonder just how quickly he drove to get to her.

“You alright, love?”

Letting her hand drop to her side, she gives a slight nod and motions to the still smoking car.

“I have no idea what’s wrong. It was fine earlier when I left.” He gives a nod and moves to pop the hood while she continues to speak. “Then I was driving home and _this_ happened.”

A cloud of smoke pours out, and she takes a step back while Killian leans in unaffected. He props the hood up as his eyes move over the engine. She can already tell he’s ruling things out by the way his eyes move, and it’s somewhat fascinating. He’ll stare at an object for a few seconds before looking to the next. After a moment, he whips out a rag from the back of his jeans and leans in to touch something, making her jump forward.

“Watch it, that’s hot.”

“Aye.”

He uses the rag as a shield for his skin and she flinches as the burn on her palm continues to sting. She watches as he checks a few things, pulls on something before leaning in to…is he _smelling_ it? The questions as to what he’s doing are burning on the tip of her tongue, but she keeps quiet, scared that her speaking would only distract him. She notices that his brow furrows a lot while he’s concentrating, and when he’s attempting to move an object with force, his mouth parts and his tongue pokes out ever so slightly.

She could watch him work all day.

His voice snaps her out of her thoughts. “Your engine is overheated—could be the thermostat, but it looks like it may be the water pump. Has your temperature gage been fluctuating?” When he looks up at her, she shrugs in question and he breathes out a chuckle. “I didn’t take notice to anything unusual last weekend, but today’s heat might have tipped it over the edge.” He closes the hood and turns to her. “You’re not going to be able to drive home. We’ll leave it here for now, and I’ll come back with the tow.”

“But I have all the groceries…”

“It’s not safe for you to drive this, we’ll put the groceries in the truck and I’ll take you back.”

She wants to argue that she’s not leaving her car, it means too much to her, but she knows what he’s saying is the best thing. With a sigh, she nods and mumbles, “Alright.”

He moves to help her with the bags because he’s Killian and God forbid he turns off the gentleman streak for three seconds so she can have time to breathe. Honestly, she knows he’s the king of innuendos, but he has to know that acting like some damn Prince Charles works just as well.

Suddenly, she’s angry again. Maybe that was his plan, to swoop in like some knight to save the damsel in distress to get her to cave. Little does he know, the only person that saves Emma, is Emma.

Reaching forward, she goes to grab a bag, completely forgetting about the burn on her palm and when the plastic rubs the slowly forming bubble, she lets out a hiss.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” She attempts to hide her hand, but he steps closer. “I just burnt my hand a little when trying to open the hood.”

“Let me see.”

“It’s nothing—”

He fixes her with a hard stare before reaching out to grab her hand. A gasp passes her lips and her stomach starts to flutter. The last time she felt his skin on hers, they were both panting with pleasure. Her eyes flicker up to his, wondering if he’s as affected by how close they are as she is, but they give nothing away. With a huff, her shoulders sag and she allows him to look it over. A few moments pass before he moves to the case of water in the trunk and stabs the plastic with his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Using his thumb and his forefinger, he twists the cap off and lets it fall to the ground before pouring the water over her burn. “What the hell!” She tries to pull her hand away, but he tightens his grip. “That stings!”

“You have to get the heat out, Swan.” He tosses the empty bottle into her trunk and rips open the pack of paper towels. “Wrap this around it—we have some ointment back at the flat that’ll help with the sting.”

Again, she wants to argue that she doesn’t need that, but a quick glance at his left hand and she keeps her mouth shut. After that, he insists she wait in the truck while he gets the bags, and it infuriates her. Why does he insist on being like this? Is it because he’s mad about what happened, and he just wants to piss her off? If he’s mad he should just say something.

Why _doesn’t_ he say something? He tried to stop her from leaving, there had to be a reason, so why is he acting as if there isn’t now? Maybe he’s over it, maybe he hasn’t spent the last two days reliving it over and over to the point of insanity like she has. Maybe they can go back to just being friends…like she… wants?

She jumps when the door closes and looks to find him motioning to her hand.

“That alright?”

Pressing her lips together, she nods. “Yeah. I mean, it, uh, it stings a little, but I’m good.”

He starts the truck and they drive back to the apartment in silence. She should probably thank him, but every time she goes to open her mouth, she slams it shut because all she can think to say is ‘ _So we’re just never going to bring up the fact that we had sex, right? Because I really don’t want to handle that conversation,_ ’ and that wouldn’t be good.

It takes them fifteen minutes to get back to the apartment and another ten for him to unload the bags because he refuses to allow her to help again, but he can’t stop her from unpacking them into the cabinets, no matter how much he grumbles at her.

Her hand is going to be fine. It’s not the first time she’s had an injury before, it’s barely even—he takes hold of her wrist and unwraps the paper towel.

“What are you doing?”

His eyes move over her wound; the skin is blistering, and she hisses when his thumb barely brushes over it, making him pull her back down the steps.

“We have to take care of this so it doesn’t get infected.”

She doesn’t answer, just follows and concentrates on how his skin feels against hers. It’s just a little burn, nothing to be too upset about, but it does make her stomach do a little flip at the fact that he’s so worried.

Sitting on one of the stools in his kitchen, she places her hand in the bowl of water he gives her and watches as he moves around for different supplies. The silence between them is hard and awkward, and she yearns for the time when things were easy with them, where she could crack a joke and he would reward her with his beautiful laugh.

Now, she has no clue what to say.

“The store was a little busy,” she starts, scratching her forehead as she lets out a dry laugh. “You should have seen the cart by the time I was finished, it was almost spilling over.”

His back goes stiff, but he doesn’t say anything and she curses. The reason Mary Margaret wanted the _both_ of them to go was because of the massive list—Sean actually ran outside to help her when the cart almost tipped over—and she told him that she could handle it herself.

_Not the smartest thing to bring up_.

Clearing her throat, she looks away when he sends her a glare and motions to the bowl, attempting at a joke, “Is this just an excuse to make my fingers all pruney?”

He places a tube of ointment and gauze on the counter next to the bowl.

“Your support rod sticks,” he mumbles as he takes her hand out of the water and pats it down with a towel. “It’s why you’ve had trouble using it.”

“Oh, yeah,” she chuckles nervously. “It’s always been like that. If you yank hard enough it’ll break loose.”

“Things that need to be _fixed_ , Emma, not just left alone. That’s how injuries such as this happen.” His tone is low and harsh, and she flinches. In all the time they’ve known each other, he’s never once been so cold, and it makes her sad.

_She really did fuck up._

It’s a funny feeling that runs throughout her body when he puts the ointment on her palm; it’s cool and soothes the ache, but the rest of her heats up. Though she’s not entirely sure if it’s due to the ointment or Killian being so close.

He sighs and shakes his head. “I apologize for my rudeness. I noticed it when you brought your car to the shop. I put some grease there, but it’ll be better if I just replace it so this doesn’t happen again.”

Her brow furrows. “Wait, do you think this was your fault?” When he doesn’t say anything, she places her right hand over his. “You do realize how old my car is, right? I don’t know a lot, but I’m sure things like this are normal.”

“I’m a mechanic, love, if I would have caught it then, you wouldn’t have hurt yourself.”

Her eyes move over his face as she tries to take in what he’s saying. She thought his attitude, his coldness toward her was due to what happened between them, but again he surprises her by being upset because he’s blaming _himself_ for her car troubles. She wants to smack him because there is _no way_ this is his fault. David has been telling her for years that she needs to get a new car, the amount of money she’s spent on repairs alone would have paid for a new one, but she just can’t.

Her bug was the first thing that she bought for herself, with her _own_ money that she _earned_ from a job. She was so proud of herself when she did it and never wants to part with it, so she deals with the mishaps and the repairs that need to be made. She knows all about them and in no way blames anyone else for them.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers.

With a clenched jaw, he gives a tight nod and stays silent. He doesn’t have to say anything for her to know that he doesn’t believe her.

His thumbs smooths the tape over the gauze slowly and her heart rate starts to pick up. Her mouth falls open and her breathing picks up as the memories of their night together flash before her eyes. She can smell his cologne—it’s the same he always wears—along with a hint of what she thinks is oil and car smoke.

“Should be alright now,” he mumbles.

When he looks up, she doesn’t think. Moving forward, she presses her lips against his with soft gasp. They feel just like she remembers, warm, soft, and inviting, and she can’t believe she’s denied herself from them. Her hands move to his chest, her fingers brushing lightly against the exposed chest hair as he cups her face.

Her legs part unconsciously, allowing him to step closer and stand at his full height while her neck bends back for a better angle. He hums at the feel of her tongue and her hands slowly run down his chest until she’s gripping his sides. It wouldn’t take much to reach for his belt, and her fingers start to twitch with anticipation.

She remembers _exactly_ how he felt inside of her and the things he was able to do to her body with the smallest of strokes. It makes her ache, and she moans, her teeth lightly nipping at his bottom lip while his fingers press into her cheeks.

He pulls back after a few moments, placing his forehead against hers as they both pant.

“That was…” The sound of his voice is like a bucket of ice water being dumped on her and her entire body goes stiff. He must sense the change, because he pulls back an inch, his eyes searching her face. “No.” She shakes her head and mumbles a curse under her breath. “Emma, don’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says running her hand through her hair. “Fuck, I can’t believe I did that again.”

Standing, she tries to walk away but he takes ahold of her arm, stopping her. “Don’t run, love, please. Just sit for a moment, alright?”

“Sit?” She all but chokes out with a dry chuckle. “You want me to sit for a moment? We’ve slept together, everything is different now!”

His brow furrows, and he gives her a look like she’s gone crazy. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“It is! We’re friends—”

“And we can be more.”

When he moves to get closer, she takes a step back, guilt hitting her like a wrecking ball when she sees the hurt that crosses his face because of it.

“More?” She breathes out in disbelief. “With our track records?”

“Sod our track records!”

A laugh bubbles in her throat and she shakes her head. “We both have commitment issues, Jones. _Serious_ commitment issues, and you want to give us a go?”

“I’m not asking for your bloody hand in marriage, Swan, I’m asking to just see what this is because I know you feel it, too.” Fear worms its way through her veins and she feels her hands start to shake. “You can talk about our issues all you like, but it isn’t that. So, tell me, what is it?”

Emma learned at a very early age some things are better left unsaid, because the answer is never what you want it to be. She taught herself to seal her lips with perfect ease and keep words unspoken so no one may use them against her, but with Killian, it’s a physical battle to hold them in, to not spill every dark secret she has because she just _knows_ he’ll understand, and it absolutely terrifies her.

“You’re my best friend!” She cries out, hands clenched at her sides. “You understand me better than _anyone_ I have ever met and if we start _this_ —” She motions between them. “—I know that some way, I’m going to fuck it up like I always do, and I can’t lose you, too.”

There’s a softness to his voice that she’s never heard before, and it almost makes her tear up as he says, “You’re not going to lose me.”

Of course he says that, and he believes it—there’s no tick in his jaw to show he’s lying—but she knows how these things work. Graham assured her he was willing to wait, but the second it got too much, he left. Just like Neal. That’s why she knows if they were to start something, it would only be a matter of time before she ruined it, and everyone would blame her for the building breaking apart.

“Killian.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but she knows he heard her.

His eyes move to her lips, and her heart starts to pound in her chest.

_What is he thinking?_

“I want to kiss you.”

Her lips part as she slowly shakes her head. “That’s not a good idea.”

He takes another step closer and she can feel his breath on her face. “Why?”

There are so many reasons why, but they all seem to disappear in that moment and all she can do is stare. It feels like an eternity before his eyes finally lock with hers, and she breathes out her answer.

“Because if you kiss me, I’m not going to be able to stop.”

A flash of surprise crosses his face and her body goes stiff. That wasn’t at all what she intended to say—it was too honest, too _right_. Fear keeps her frozen in her spot, and she doesn’t realize he’s moving until his hands are cupping her face and he’s kissing her after whispering, “Then don’t.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this chapter wasn't complete when I posted it, so here's a repost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, April is my rock. She makes me look like a genius.
> 
> Mandy and her banner making skills has me jealous af.
> 
> And special shout out and thanks to the wonderful Mia for allowing me to steal use her IG RP name, and if you’re not following the IGRP group, go do it. It’s like fanfiction with pictures :D

**Chapter Ten**

Killian walks out of his flat and skips up the steps. He’s promised David he would help his wife set up for the party that night, but he’d been a tad bit _distracted_ that morning.

_“Bloody hell, Emma,” he moans as he falls limply back against his bed._

_She giggles while crawling up his body, her lips dragging up his torso in a wonderfully slow pace before she nips at his nipple._

_“Did you not enjoy your wakeup call?”_

_Her lips are sucking at the pulse point on his throat and he lifts his hand to cup the back of her head._

_“Waking up to your heavenly mouth around me, love, is never something I will_ not _enjoy.” He gasps when she bites at his earlobe and his fingers tighten in her blonde locks._

_“I didn’t mean to finish you off, but you just tasted so good.” He groans before turning his head and capturing her lips with his. “Whatever shall I do now?” She’s breathless when she pulls back._

_He smirks and lifts his eyebrow. “I do love a challenge.”_

Every time with her is better than the last…the taste of her skin and the feel of her pulsing around him—it’s unlike any pleasure he’s experienced in his entire life, and he knows it’s not something he’ll ever tire of. That thought alone almost makes him laugh. As if he could _ever_ tire of Emma Swan.

She’s become such prominent fixture in his life, and even though he doesn’t exactly know what’s going on with them, all that matters to him is that she _is_ in his life.

_Emma is bouncing up and down on his lap when she says, “We have to figure out wha—_ fuck— _what we’re doing.”_

_“Aye,” he grunts with his hands on her hips as he thrusts up. “We will.”_

_She cries out, her nails dig into his chest and her muscles contort around his cock. After a moment, she collapses on top of him, her hair forming a curtain around their heads. “Tomorrow?”_

_He nods before kissing her. “Tomorrow.”_

It still hasn’t been worked out. They spend their time as they did before, mostly with each other, but now with the added bonus of mind-blowing sex. Though, it’s a conversation he knows that they need to have. He doesn’t know where he stands with her, and that’s a little unnerving. Is he permitted to kiss her hello or goodbye? Is he permitted to hold her close whenever he feels? At the very least is he permitted to hold her hand? He doesn’t know, because, though they are engaging in sexual activities…intimacy is almost non-existent. He fears if he pushes too hard, she’ll run just as she had after their first time, and he in no way wants that.

So he acts as if nothing has changed, even waits until she initiates to do _anything_ and agrees to keep what’s happening between them a secret.

_“I want to keep this between us for now,” she whispers to him as they lay in his bed, both their bodies still shaking from their couplings. “Is that okay?”_

_He’s still panting and his brow is furrowed as he stares at the ceiling. On one hand, her words are telling him she’s no longer running, that she’s intending for them to continue on, and it’s like music to his ears. Then on the other, she’s asking him to keep it a secret, and he has sudden flashes of his past, of being the dirty little secret that’s hidden away in a closet, only taken out when he’s useful…a toy._

_It’s not what she could mean…is it?_

_“Aye, love. It’s alright.”_

Rapping his knuckles on the Nolan’s door, he waits until he hears a voice before entering. When he does, his heart just about drops to his stomach. Emma is standing on a chair, one foot on the seat, the other on the back, with it leaning forward slightly.

“Swan!” He rushes forward and takes hold of the chair before it can tip forward. “Are you trying to break your neck?”

She giggles and finishes hanging what looks to be a red star before stepping back down on to the seat. He offers his hand and helps her down.

“I was perfectly safe. You worry too much.” He goes to argue, but the words die on his lips when she leans up on her toes and plants a quick kiss to his lips. _Are they allowed to do that now?_ “Seems like your legs are working well.”

There’s a smirk on her lips and a twinkle in her eye that makes him chuckle. “Seems that they are.”

He hears a door open from behind him as Emma leans in to whisper, “Guess I’ll just have to try harder next time,” before she moves to walk around him.

Opening his mouth, he turns to ask just how she would manage that when he sees Mary Margaret emerge from the bathroom.

“Killian!” Mary Margaret says with a large smile. “I was starting to worry that you forgot about us, you’re not usually late.”

He watches as Emma bites her lip and a pink flush appears on her cheeks and shakes his head.

“Apologies, lass. I’m afraid it was one of those mornings where my bed just _sucked_ me in, couldn’t leave if I wanted.”

Emma’s mouth drops and he smirks.

_Two can play at this game._

* * *

Either Emma is far better at the game than he is, or she’s blissfully unaware of how much she truly affects him. Why must she insist on wearing shorts? Does she not know what her legs do to him? Just two nights prior, he licked and nipped his way up them.

He shivers at the memory of how soft and delicious they were.

Her cheeks are flush from the beer she’s drinking, almost matching the red on her shirt and her hair flows in beautiful waves with the front pinned back away from her face. He wishes for nothing more than to walk up to her, place a kiss to her temple and wrap his arm around her waist, but he can’t. So he keeps his distance, and whenever he’s around her he shoves his empty hand into his pocket to make it easier.

It doesn’t.

The entire party is torture, but in the delicious kind. He finds everything they say or do together foreplay, and he’s finding it hard to control himself. Whenever she places her hand on his arm, the warmth of her fingers makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up while the smell of her perfume has him wishing he wore looser pants.

There are other things, _dangerous_ things, that make him almost weak in the knees...Like the way she throws her head back and laughs loudly—her entire face lights up, and he can’t help but snap a couple pictures of her after he steals her camera away—and the way she pulls him into her arms for a hug when they beat David and Liam in a game of beer pong.

Then there’s the feeling he gets deep in the pit of his stomach every time she interacts with another person. A feeling that he’s only just become familiar with…

Bitterness.

Bitterness over the fact that Liam is permitted to walk up to her without a care and wrap his arm around her shoulders as he laughs in her ear, and how David is able to grasp her hand to pull her in for a picture. Any time _anyone_ gets close to her, he craves to do the same but stays away, fearing it may be too much.

A hat is forced upon his head, and when he turns, he finds Emma standing there with a large grin on her face.

“There,” she giggles. “Now smile!”

Cocking his eyebrow, he gives a smile as she snaps a picture with her phone before he pulls the hat off.

“‘Murica’? Really?” He hands it back to her with a look of disgust. “What is America’s fascination with shortening every bloody word there is?”

He watches as she places the hat on her head and crosses her arms over her chest—when she adds the pout he bites his lip at how adorable she looks.

“It’s funny!”

“Aye,” he steps closer and tugs at the brim. “It’s hilarious, Swan.”

Her eyes sparkle and he wants for nothing more than to lean down and place a kiss to the tip of her nose, but he holds himself back. Though, when she lifts her pinky to brush against the back of his left hand he almost waivers.

“Emma! Killian!” They look up to see Ruby standing a few feet away, Emma’s camera in her hand.

He’s just barely caught onto what she’s asking when Emma wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close, and for those fifteen seconds, he’s happy.

* * *

His happiness doesn’t seem to last, and he blames it entirely on August Wood, son of the local handyman who’s visiting his father for the holiday weekend. The man child, as Killian has taken to calling him— _who shows up to a party with a bloody doll? It doesn’t matter if he carved it himself—_ is holding Emma up in the kitchen, chatting away as if they are best mates.

She laughs at his jokes and Killian sees the way August eyes her arse when she turns to get a new drink. That makes his jaw clench as he puts his bottle to his lips and takes a quick sip. Rolling his shoulders, he turns back to the conversation he’s having with Jasmine and Eric and tries to ignore the ache that’s slowly creeping its way up from the pit of his stomach.

Jealousy is not a foreign feeling to him. After he learned of Milah’s marriage, he spent an entire year with it coursing through his veins because he knew deep down, she was never _truly_ his.

Now he finds himself in almost the same position, because, though Emma may not be his to claim, he is hers completely.

Though he tries to fight it, his gaze moves back to the kitchen, and when he finds August stepping closer to Emma, he can no longer take it. Excusing himself from the conversation, he heads down the hall toward the bathroom. The rage inside of him makes his hands shake, and it’s out of habit that he has the urge to punch something. There were many nights he found himself in a brawl with some random bloke that dared hit on Milah while they were out. It was a fetish of hers to see him take charge.

Something tells him that Emma would _not_ feel the same.

He’s just opened the door to the bathroom when someone pushes him from behind, making him stumble forward.

“What the—” The surprise on his face when he turns to see Emma standing before him is something he can’t hide. Her eyes are sparkling and she giggles as he rights himself. “Swan? What are you doing?”

“What are _you_ doing?”

“Uh,” he chuckles dryly and motions around the room. “I _was_ going to the bathroom.”

“No, what’s wrong with you? You seem like you’re upset or something.”

Reaching up to scratch the back of his ear, he shakes his head. “What would upset me?”

She tilts her head with her eyes narrowing slightly and he forces a smile. It would be unwise to voice his insecurities when their arrangement is still so fresh and new.

After a moment, she steps forward and wraps her arms around his waist. Letting out a breath, his body melts into hers as he reaches up to brush his knuckles across the apple of her cheek.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying right?” She mumbles before pressing a light kiss to his right cheek.

“Is that so?”

With a hum, she nods and pulls back to look at him. “You have a tell—and _no_ , I’m not telling you what it is.”

He squeezes her closer and licks his bottom lip. “Well then, guess I’ll have to use my good looks to persuade you.”

She giggles, and it makes him feel lighter, all the worry he felt before washing away as her fingers find their way under his shirt and her nails lightly scratch at his lower back.

“It’s amazing that your head fits into this small room.” He chuckles, opening his mouth to respond with a naughty comment when she steps back and says, “I should get back out there before someone notices.”

It’s as if a bucket of ice water is dumped on him, the harsh reality of their situation hitting him square in the chest.

“Aye,” he mutters, letting his hands drop to his sides. “I’ll finish up and follow.”

She does her head tilt again and he forces another grin. There’re a few moments of silence before she steps forward, places her hand on his stomach and presses her lips to his. His eyes close at the softness and he pushes forward, but she pulls back before it can go any further.

“Be patient,” she whispers, her eyes flickering with a hint of insecurity.

“I’ve got all the time in the world, love.” When she disappears out the door he looks down and vows, “No matter how long it takes.”

* * *

“I’m going to call it a night.”

Killian’s head snaps up at Emma’s voice and he forces a blank expression. While the others protest, he clenches his jaw and sips his beer to keep himself from asking if she’s alright or if she wished for him to join her.

_It’s not that type of…thing._

“Goodnight, Jones.”

He gives a tight lipped grin and nods, the sound of his last name coming from her lips making him almost wince. It’s astounding really, how unaffected she seems to be by it all while he’s barely able to stay away from her.

“Swan.”

Her brows furrow for a half a second before she smiles and walks to the door. When she’s gone, a huff passes his lips and his shoulders sag. He thought, well _hoped_ , they would find some time before the night was over, though he knew it was probably unlikely. They’ve usually spent their time together during the day—it was just easier due to Liam and David working and Mary Margaret volunteering at the hospital—while they spent the night with everyone pretending as if they haven’t started…what they’ve started _._

It’s not as though he has anyone but himself to blame for his uncertainty. Every time either one of them has mentioned having an _actual_ conversation, he allows for them to get distracted and push it off. In all honesty, he’s not asking for much. He doesn’t wish for a proclamation of her feelings, he just wishes he knew if it means something...

That he’s not just some toy.

Taking a deep breath, he chuckles when everyone else does to feign he’s been paying attention to the conversation and scratches his chin. With Emma gone, the party seems dull, and he would like nothing more than to just go be with her, in any capacity.

His phone vibrates against his thigh, making him jump slightly before he pulls it from his pocket to find a message from Emma.

**Coming up? – E**

Downing the rest of his beer, he pushes himself up from his seat and pats Eric on the shoulder. “Heading to the loo, mate. Be back in a tick.”

He feels a tad guilty for lying, but if he tells anyone that he’s leaving it’ll take longer to say goodbye, and he’d have to come up with an excuse as to why, so he walks down the hall toward the bathroom. With a final glance to make sure no one is watching, he slips into the Nolan’s bedroom and heads for the window to the balcony.

**Open the window. – K**

He’ll ask her what they are tomorrow.

* * *

He doesn’t ask.

* * *

Killian leans against the island in David’s kitchen with his eyebrow raised. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

David phoned him earlier in the day asking for his assistance; it was some sort of anniversary for he and Mary Margaret, and he wished to cook her dinner. They spent the afternoon at the market buying the ingredients for the soup he’s trying to make from scratch.

_“Do you think I should buy two of everything, you know, in case I mess up?”_

_Killian’s eyes widen. “It’s better to be safe.”_

“Belle wrote out the instructions for me,” David calls over his shoulder before he turns the burner off on the stove. “It seemed simple enough.”

Walking up, he watches David lift the lid on the pot as they lean forward. They snap back at the same time, the foul odor making them both gag and stutter.

“Bloody hell!”

“Oh god!”

Killian tries to hold back from losing his lunch as David quickly grabs the lid to cover the pot.

“ _That_ is not what it’s supposed to smell like.”

“I should bloody hope not.” He shakes his head and steps back. “What happened?”

David shakes his head. “I don’t know…but there’s no way I can serve that to her.”

“You can’t serve that to anyone, mate.” David lifts the pot, carrying it to the sink when Killian steps forward. “Ah, I wouldn’t do that. You don’t want the whole flat to smell, do you?”

“That’s probably a good idea…I’ll take it outside.”

Shaking his head, he waits until David leaves to pull his phone out of his pocket—Emma will most certainly find it amusing that her dear brother failed to make soup—when he sees a notification waiting for him from Instagram.

_‘ **thatswangirl** has tagged you in a photo.’_

Before meeting Emma, his account was rarely used. The username he chose, **captainjones _,_** was an inside joke from college, and he only had three pictures uploaded: an engine he rebuilt, a ship that caught his eye down by the docks, and a close up of the scar on his right cheek.

After meeting Emma, he finds himself using it more, capturing memories to remember and share with everyone.

Tapping his notifications, he brings up the picture and smiles.

In the photo, her legs are resting in his lap, ankles crossed over one another while his are propped on the ledge of her balcony. There’s a perfect view of the ocean in the background and the caption reads ‘ _Lazy summer nights_ ’ followed by two emoji’s.

If there is one thing he’s learned about Emma Swan, it’s that she _loves_ her emoji’s. There are times she won’t even respond to his text with words, only with those bloody cartoons and he’ll have to figure out what she means—

***Eggplant & Tongue emoji*** **– E  
Are you molesting me via emoji, love? – K**

—Though the ones next to the caption confuse him.

It’s a clock and a shooting star, two things he’s not sure he’s ever seen her use before.

Checking back on the first picture she uploaded of them, the one from the pool party, he finds the hammer and wrench along with a little chick. With his brows furrowed, he checks every picture of them since to find which emoji’s she’s used.

The one of them eating lunch at Granny’s? _‘Best food in town’_    ***hammer & wrench & little chick***

The one of them at the library? _‘Stories & Stories’_  ***hammer & wrench & little chick***

The one of them in her bug while she was working her case? _‘Swan-Jones, P.I. Investigations’_   ***hammer & wrench & little chick***

The next photo is the one Ruby took at the Fourth of July party. Their cheeks are pressed together, her arms are around his shoulders while his are around her waist, and they are both wearing matching smiles. It’s the first photo with the new emoji’s.

_‘Happy Fourth of July!’ ***clock &  shooting star***_

Each photo after that of just the two of them is the same, a caption followed by the mysterious clock and star.

He tries to figure out what they mean because he knows with Emma, they _always_ have a meaning, but he comes up blank. Double tapping the picture, he makes a mental note to ask her of their meaning just as David walks back in.

“I must have done something wrong,” he mutters to himself before placing the pot in the sink. “I’m going to start fresh—this way, if I mess up again, I’ll still have time to call and make a reservation at that little Italian place she likes.”

Killian’s phone goes with off, indicating a new message while he says, “Might I suggest doing that instead? We all know your lovely wife prefers a night out, I can attest to that.”

“Yeah, you know, I don’t need to hear about how you know what my wife likes to do for a date.”

Chuckling, he taps the message from Emma and almost chokes at the picture that is attached. She’s holding the phone high—her chin, torso and the tops of her thighs the only thing visible—showing off that she’s wearing what looks to be _his_ shirt, unbuttoned, with the swell of her breasts and the expansion of her flat stomach on full display.

**Your shirt is clean. – E**

Her creamy white skin makes his mouth water, and he has to bite his lip to keep from moaning.

“Everything alright?”

His head snaps up at the sound of David’s voice and he quickly presses the phone to his chest. Their friends and family are still unaware of what is going on between them, but even if they were, he’s certain David wouldn’t appreciate seeing that his sister sent him an erotic picture of herself.

“Uh...” The phone vibrates again and he nods. “Aye, going to attempt it again?”

David eyes him for a second before he turns back to the stove. “Yeah, I think what I did wrong was—”

Killian doesn’t catch the end of David’s sentence because Emma’s new text makes him instantly half hard.

**Want to come dirty it again? – E**

Pushing himself off the island, he approaches David and looks down at the pot his mate is stirring.

“Well, it already smells a hell of a lot better than the first batch,” he jokes, patting him on the back. “You’ll be alright if I head out?”

“Um, yeah,” David starts as Killian steps back, turning to leave. “Everything okay?”

“Aye,” he calls from over his shoulder, “I’ve just remembered I promised Liam that I would help him with something.”

David’s voice makes him stop. “Isn’t he working? What does he need help with?”

Letting out a nervous chuckle, he reaches up scratch at the back of his ear before answering, “Laundry.”

He rushes out of the flat before David can question him further and takes the stairs up to Emma’s two at a time. Without bothering to knock, he pushes the door open to find her walking back toward her bedroom with the laundry basket pressed to her hip. Her legs are still bare and she’s still wearing his shirt, though she’s fastened a few buttons.

_Pity._

“Hey,” she smiles and tilts her head. “I thought it would be at least a few—”

He cuts her off with a kiss, his hands cupping her face as he pulls her close. The laundry basket drops to ground with a thud and her arms wrap around his waist. She tastes of oranges and smells like strawberries with a hint of flower that he assumes is from the fabric softener she’s used.

Pressing forward with a moan, he bends her back relishing the feel of her lips on his. They are soft, _always so bloody soft_ , and warm, inviting him in…inviting him home.

He pulls back with a gasp and rests his forehead against hers. “Bloody hell, Emma. I was with your brother.”

She giggles as her nails scratch the back of his head. “Trouble controlling yourself, Captain? Guess you couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps you’re the one that couldn’t handle it,” he whispers before fusing his lips back to hers and pushing her back against the wall.

Moving his hands down her body, he hums at the feel of her curves. Her fingers begin to claw at his pants as his hook into the elastic of her underwear. He breaks their kiss to pull them down quickly while she moves to undo the buttons on the shirt, _his_ shirt, she’s wearing.

“No,” his voice is breathless as he stops her. “It’s fine.”

Her eyebrow raises and she smirks. “Really?”

“Yeah, I like it.”

Lifting her in the air, she secures her legs around his waist as he kisses her deeply. By the time his pants are undone, he pulls them down just enough before pushing inside of her. The feel of her warmth wrapped around him makes his eyes roll into the back of his head and with each thrust, each drag against her silk walls, he loses himself more and more.

“Oh god, Killian, _yes_!”

He grunts, the sound of his name falling from her lips never something he’ll tire of hearing, and dips to lick the hollow of her throat.

“That’s a good girl,” he moans while she tightens her legs around him. “Always so good to me.”

Her fingers tangle in his hair in the way he loves as her lips drag across his cheek. The warmth of her breath makes him shiver, and he tries to hold himself off. They’ve been together more times than he’s ever been with _anyone_ —to say they’ve been testing his stamina would be an understatement—but he still finds himself struggling to hold back from spilling over like a virginal lad.

“You’re so wet, love, so _bloody_ wet.” His knees bend slightly to hit a new angle while his palms hold onto her hips. “What made you so wet?” Her back arches into him and she almost slips, but he catches her before she can fall. “Did you enjoy teasing me?” She nods with a gasp passing her lips. “Aye, I know you did. My Swan loves being a naughty girl for me, doesn’t she?”

“ _Killian_.”

He pokes his tongue out to lick her lips and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Are you going to come for me, Emma? Do you think you deserve it?” He pops the ‘t’ as he grinds his hips against her, purposely rubbing against her clit and making her cry out. “ _Fuck_ , come for me, love. Come for me and take me with you.”

With her muscles tightening around him, he loses the last of his restraint and spills himself inside of her. Their moans mix together as he continues to thrust, dragging their shared orgasms out as long as possible. By the time they both come down, his knees are shaking and his arms begin to ache, but he doesn’t move.

She’s pressing kisses to his skin—his neck, cheek, brow, wherever she can reach—as she always does when they finish, and he knows once he lets her down, it’ll stop. It’s a softness she doesn’t share very often, making him crave it all the more.

Eventually, his legs almost give out, but he’s able to catch himself before they both tumble to the floor and she giggles.

“You okay there?”

“Aye.” He pulls out of her with a low hiss and waits to remove his arms from around her waist until her feet touch the floor. “Just have to get my bearings straight.”

Pulling his pants up, he watches as she gives an almost drunken smile, her head resting back against the wall. “Mm, I know what you mean.”

The glow on her face after she’s been satisfied is something he never wishes to forgret, the way her cheeks flush pink, the way the right corner of her lips creep up ever so slightly...perhaps one day she’ll allow him to take a picture so he may remember it always.

“Looks like we definitely made the shirt dirty again.”

His gaze falls to where she’s holding the shirt, a small wet patch on the bottom where it must have got caught between them.

“So it would seem,” he mutters before taking her back into his arms and pulling her close.

“I’ll try and get the stain out.”

With a shrug, he places a soft kiss to the tip of her nose and says, “It matters not. It’s just a shirt, love. I have plenty.”

Her lips pout in the most adorable way. “I like this shirt.”

“Keep it then.” When she looks up at him, he leans in and mumbles against her lips, “It looks better on you, anyway.”

They share lazy kisses, her fingers dancing over his stomach while he cups her face and rubs his thumbs over the apples of her cheeks. He wishes for nothing more than to pull her down onto the couch, perhaps they could take a nap, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before—

“I should go clean up.”

A small sigh passes his lips before he nods and steps back to give her space to move. Running his hand through his hair, he catches a glimpse of the forgotten laundry basket on the floor. They must have knocked it over at some point, because some of the clothes have spilled out. Leaning down to pick them up, he takes the basket over to the island in her kitchen.

Tenderness is rare between them; it’s only after their love making that he gets to hold and caress her the way he wants, almost like the blissful state they are both in washes all his fears of _too much_ away. He knows how hesitant she is, and if he’s being honest, he’s still waiting for something to make her run again.

Not that he wouldn’t follow—she could run to the ends of the earth and he would follow after her.

Plus, there have been times when he’s gotten glimpses into how she might feel. It’s why he’s held off on asking her about the state of their relationship. For example, she was adamant the first week they got together that there were to be no sleepovers.

_“I let David and Mary Margaret have free roam of my apartment, and before you say anything, yes, I’ve woken up to Mary Margaret coming into my room because she wanted to tell me about a new dress she thought was pretty. Plus, what if Liam goes into your room to look for you and you’re not there? What are you going to tell him?”_

He almost let it fall from his lips that they could just _tell_ everyone, but it was too soon, and he didn’t wish for her to leave, so he agreed. Then one night he went to leave and she kissed him. It was one of her rare soft kisses that he loves. Before he could pull away, she pressed her lips to his again and again and again. They fell back into her room and made love, and that night he fell asleep with her head on his chest and his nose in her hair.

After that night, she whispered to him that she likes when he sleeps over, that having him in her bed was… _nice_ , and he came up with the idea that during the week he would stay home, due to him having to get up early for work, and on the weekends, since Liam had been spending more time at Belle’s, he would sleep at her place.

The smile that graced her lips when he told her that was one he’ll never forget.

But then there are times where he doubts it all, that perhaps this _is_ just a ‘friends with benefits’ thing for her.

Like when they hang out with everyone—

_“Oh, Killian, there’s this new nurse at the hospital, Tina,” Mary Margaret explains. “She’s super cute, I think you guys would make a great couple. Emma, isn’t she super cute?”_

_“She’s super cute, Jones, and from what Mar tells me, she’s really into mechanics.”_

—she threw him a wink and elbowed him in the stomach in a way mates do when they are trying to convince you to do something.

He understands that they are to keep up the appearance of ‘just friends,’ but why the bloody hell would she encourage him to seek out companionship with another woman?

Folding the last t-shirt, he places the basket back on the floor and runs his hand through his hair. Perhaps he should say something to her, feel her out to see if she’s open for the discussion. It’s not as if he won’t be able to tell if she’s not, she’s a bloody open book when it comes to things she’s uncomfortable with, and it would only take him a few seconds to figure it out.

Like he told her that day in his kitchen, he doesn’t wish for anything _major,_ declarations of one's feelings are not necessary, he just wishes he knew if it meant _more…_

Going back to the kitchen, he moves to grab himself something to drink when the items on the stove catch his eye. There are plastic bags along with a few jars of sauce lined up next to them. He’s just looked into the bag when Emma’s voice startles him.

“No, don’t look in there!”

He doesn’t listen and his brow furrows when he sees what looks to be ground beef and other foods. He and David had just gone food shopping earlier, so he’s confused as to why she would have gone instead of asking them to grab whatever she needed.

“What’s all this?”

His gaze moves back to her, and he watches as her shoulders sag and she lets out a sigh.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she mumbles with a frown before walking forward.

She begins to unload the bags, ground beef, spices, oils, and what look to be fresh peppers all with a frown on her face.

“Hey,” he places his hand over hers, making her stop. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Forget it, it was a stupid idea anyway.”

She moves to leave, but he catches her around the waist and pulls her back.

“Any idea you come up with will never be stupid, I assure you,” he motions with his head to the food. “Now what is all this?”

Her tongue pokes out to lick her bottom lip, and she steps back with a sigh.

“Well, we usually all have dinner together Sunday nights, but Mary Margaret and David are doing their anniversary dinner, and Liam said he was working late…” She trails off, a flush of pink forming on her cheeks as her eyes flicker up to his before moving back to the food. “So I was going to try and cook for you.”

His mouth falls open as the shock runs through his body. She was planning on surprising him with a home cooked meal…Emma Swan, the queen of takeout, who managed to burn pasta in five minutes the last time Mary Margaret asked her to watch it while she ran to the bathroom…was going to attempt to cook him a meal because he’s use to one every Sunday night.

“You said before stuffed peppers were your favorite,” she starts again in a nervous ramble, “and I found this recipe online that seems to be fairly simple, so—”

He cuts her off with a kiss, his fear of _too much_ be damned because she just checked off another moment that told him exactly what he wanted to know.

It means more.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely April for being the best beta a girl could ask for and the wonderful Mandy for the amazing banner.
> 
> I am happy to announce that The Reason will now be going to a weekly updating schedule (as long as RL allows). So I hope you guys are happy about that. *nervous chuckle*

**Chapter Eleven**

It’s Monday morning when Emma wakes up feeling like death. Her nose is completely clogged, her throat is sore, and her entire body aches. To top it off, it’s somehow freezing _and_ hot, so she puts on shorts with a long-sleeved shirt to try and even it out.

It doesn’t.

Luckily, she was able to reach David before he left for work, and he brought her whatever medicine they had in their apartment. It wasn’t much, just some painkillers to bring her fever down and Halls to numb her throat, but he promised to stop by during the day with more.

Pulling her blanket up to her chin, she gets herself comfortable just as Netflix starts a new episode, wishing she had more sleeping pills to knock her out, because she’s about two seconds away from cutting her nose off.

Seriously, who gets a cold in the middle of the fucking summer?

It’s just as Chandler and Monica show up late to the hospital that Emma realizes she hasn’t heard from Killian all day. Okay, she's been sleeping most of the morning and hasn't checked her phone, but still. He usually sends her a text message in the morning when he doesn’t spend the night, and though they are just a few words, they always seem to make her smile.

Forcing herself to move, she reaches out to her bedside table, patting around until she feels her phone when her hand slips and it falls to the ground with a thud. Letting her head drop back with a groan, she pushes the blankets off and pulls herself up. She argues with herself for a half a second that it doesn’t matter, he’s probably busy and she’s sick, so there wouldn’t be much talking, but she feels like shit and all she wants is to hear his voice.

It’s a strange feeling to have, the need to speak to someone all the time, and it’s not something she’s used to. Before, her cell phone was _always_ dead—when she doesn’t have her camera she uses her phone, and she can’t do anything without listening to music. Liam and David would growl at her on _numerous_ occasions about it, and she was probably the worst person to text because she never answered in what others would call a ‘timely manner,’ but now?

Every night she makes sure it is plugged in and fully charged for the next day so her and Killian can talk. Even though he works and there are times he doesn’t answer right away, they still manage to keep in constant contact.

A month they’ve been sneaking around, and she can’t remember the last time she’s been so… _happy_. He’s her best friend; they always have fun together and the sex is _outrageously_ good. It still amazes her how he’ll have her laughing one minute and panting with need the next.

She’s also never been one for cuddling or showing affection, but with Killian she wants that and more. Everything just feels so right when he holds her—it’s a struggle to keep from falling into his arms the second they are alone together, and to not kiss him every chance she gets. Every time she gets the urge, she remembers the one time she stopped by the library to visit him. He was in the back, and she greeted him with a pinch on his ass and a kiss. The look on his face was pure shock as his eyes flickered to the front to make sure Belle wasn’t watching, almost like he didn’t trust her to make sure they were alone.

She hasn’t greeted him with a kiss since and has kept her cuddling for after sex. Sometimes, she’ll make it last longer, but always pulls away before he has the chance.

The whole “friends with benefits” idea went out the window the second she started to let him sleep over. Of course, she told herself that wasn’t going to happen—she never lets anyone sleep over her place—then again there are a lot of things she finds herself becoming lax on when it comes to Killian.

While they might not have declared themselves in a relationship, she’s not blind to the fact that they basically _are_ in one. They spend all their free time together, whether it’s with everyone or just themselves, they speak all throughout the day, and they aren’t seeing anyone else.

That she knows of.

The subject of dating other people hasn’t come up, and she’s almost glad for it. It’s not like she’s interested in dating someone else, it just seems that if they were to _finally_ have that conversation, she would have to admit her feelings for him and that thought alone makes her want to run for the hills.

He was clear when they hooked up that he wasn’t asking for a commitment, that it was just to figure out the heat between them. Honestly, she’s surprised it’s lasted this long—four weeks and six days—thinking for sure after a few times he was going to stop it. Maybe he’s too good of a man to do that…maybe he’s just going to let it fizzle away.

The problem is that she doesn’t want it to fizzle away, but she can’t tell him that.

Running her hand through her hair, she ignores the ache in her bones as she throws her legs over the side of the bed, cursing when she looks to the floor. There are wadded up tissues and Halls wrappers all over the place, along with her clothes from the night before.

She has zero energy to clean them up and decides to ignore them—just like the mess in her kitchen—until she’s feeling better. A wave of dizziness hits her as soon as she stands and she misses her foot getting tangled with a shirt on the floor, making her fall forward.

“Bloody hell!” There’s a thud as something drops before a strong pair of arms catch her. “What do you think you’re doing, love? You should be in bed.”

Lifting her head, she cracks an eye open. “Killian?” With her brows furrowed, she moves back slightly and looks him over. His hair is tousled, there’s a black smudge on his jaw—oil probably—and he’s still wearing his work uniform. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you not get my messages?” He asks as he helps her move back to the bed so she can sit down, “I’ve come to check on you.”

Moving her hair out of her face, she shakes her head. “How did you know I was sick?”

She watches as he bends down to pick up her phone, placing it on the side table before going to retrieve what looks to be a plastic bag in the doorway.

“When you didn’t answer your phone, I started to get worried, so I spoke to David and—”

“You asked David about me?”

There’s a slight catch in her voice and her heart starts to race. The fact that he was worried about her makes her stomach flip and—

“I didn’t _ask_ , Swan. He stopped by the shop for lunch, and he informed me that you were ill.”

_Oh._

She ignores the hurt, pushing it down and places her hands in her lap as he continues.

“I’ve brought some things that might help.” He lifts a bottle with red liquid inside and holds it out to her. “This is supposed to numb your throat…it’s cherry flavored.”

Her brow furrows as he places the bottle on her bedside table.

“Cherry?”

“Aye, I’m aware you’re not very partial to cherry, but the only other option was grape. I’ve also brought some of those sleeping painkillers you’re fond of—you used the last of yours last weekend after going out with Mary Margaret.” He lifts the bottle and gives it a rattle with a slight smirk. “There’s also honey and tea, it’s better than coffee right now, and I can see you’re deep into your _Friends_ marathon, but I popped by the libr—”

“You didn’t have to do this,” she almost growls, cutting him off.

“I’m aware of that, love. But David asked me to do it because he’s found himself tied up and the shop wasn’t busy today.”

His jaw ticks and her eyes narrow. He’s lying…David didn’t ask him to do _anything,_ and she knows from experience that the only time people do things like this is when they _want_ something.

“Why would you agree when you had your own work?”

He at least has the decency to look embarrassed as he reaches up to scratch the back of his ear and it all clicks. Usually when they volunteer to do something, it’s so they are able to get a moment to sneak off together.

When Liam was late for his dinner reservation with Belle due to a shipment on the docks, Killian offered to go and wait for it, and Emma gave him a blowjob in the office.

When Mary Margaret wanted ice cream one night after dinner, Emma said she would go get it and Killian offered to help…they pulled into the back of Town Hall and had sex in her car.

His mouth opens and closes a couple times before he motions to her. “You’re unwell. I was just—”

“Look,” she barks out. “I can barely blow my nose right now let alone blow _you_ , so if that’s why you’re doing this you can just forget it.”

It’s weird how someone can have a thought in their head that makes sense and seems plausible, making them believe it to be true, but the second they say it out loud, they realize how utterly ridiculous it was, and that’s what happens to Emma.

She regrets what she said only milliseconds after saying it, but it’s too late…the damage is done.

His head snaps back before his mouth falls completely open. There are a range of emotions that cross his face, first confusion that quickly melts into disbelief, followed by anger and the last…hurt. His jaw clenches before he rubs his hand over his mouth and motions to the bag.

“There’s pudding in there,” he mumbles, ignoring her statement all together, “and ice cream in your ice box because I was unsure if the cold would be too harsh on your throat.” She looks down at the bag and presses her lips together. “Feel better, Swan.”

The sound of her bedroom door closing makes her chin quiver as the guilt flows through her. A very large part of her wants to run after him, to apologize, explain that when she gets scared her walls go up and her first instinct is to lash out, because watching him leave hurt far more than she thought it would.

Sighing, she takes the sleeping meds out of the bag, stopping when the sight of brown leather catches her eye. With a soft curse under her breath, she pulls the book into her lap and runs her fingers over the letters.

_Once Upon A Time._

Not only did he stop to get her medicine, but he went to the library to get her favorite book. Tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head before throwing a pill down her throat. Cradling the book to her chest, she crawls back into the bed and lays down. Maybe after she’s rested she’ll find the courage to apologize and blame it on her head being all stuffed, though she knows he’ll know the truth.

* * *

A couple hours later, Emma wakes up to her body shivering and her stomach growling. Her nose is still stuffed and her bones hurt when she rolls over. Groaning, she cracks an eye to find the sun just starting to set and sighs.

All she really wants to do is take another pill and go back to sleep, but with nothing in her stomach it could do more harm than good. Flinging her arm behind her, she reaches for her phone to order take out when she finds fives messages and two missed calls. One message is from David, asking if she’s feeling better and the rest are from Killian, no doubt from before he stopped by because she has a feeling he won’t be talking to her any time soon after what she said.

It’s not like she blames him, it was pretty fucking harsh even by her standards.

**Good morning, love. It’s a beautiful day out, might I suggest a stroll through the park with your camera? – K**

**Still sleeping, Swan? I have to say, this is pretty late even for you. Up all night dreaming of me? ;-p – K**

_One missed call._

**Damn it, Emma, I know you’re sick, David told me. Just let me know you’re alright. – K**

_Two missed calls._

**I’m coming by to check on you. – K**

Letting her phone drop to her chest, she reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She fucked up… _really_ fucked up. He was genuinely worried about her, and because she’s not use to it, she lashed out and ended up hurting him. She warned Killian this would happen, that she would end up ruining everything, but he didn’t listen.

It’s like the situation with Graham all over again; she told Graham she wasn’t ready for a relationship, that she wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready, and he still insisted it was okay. Then when a month passed and nothing changed, it was too much for him to handle.

_“I can’t do this anymore, Emma. I thought I could but…you either want to be with me or you don’t.”_

Her throat tightens and fear creeps up her spine. It hurt when Graham left, but it was a pain she was used to and accepted because deep down she knew that’s how it was going to end—but whenever she even _attempts_ to think about Killian leaving…

Running her hand through her hair, she slams that thought to the back of her mind and sits up. She has to get out of her bed, laying in it all day, no matter how shitty she feels, isn’t going to help with her state of mind.

The first thing Emma notices is that her floor is clear. The tissues, wrappers and clothes from before are gone, and when she looks up, she notices that her TV has been shut off along with the lights. Standing, she flinches at the coolness of the wood under her feet and walks out into the hall. There’re soft echoes—the TV—coming from her living room and her shoulders sag. David must have come up after work to check—

She stops and her mouth falls open because Killian is sitting on her couch, his left arm propped on the back as he lifts the remote to change the channel. There’s a deep urge to back up slowly, to return to her room and feign sleep until he’s gone—When did he come back?—but something tells her it won’t do any good.

Taking a step forward, her eyes flicker over the kitchen to find it…clean. The counters are clear, the dishes are gone except for a pot that seems to be boiling on the stove, and there’s a trash bag sitting by her door.

“You’re awake.” Her gaze snaps over and she watches as he moves off the couch toward her. “How are you feeling?”

She searches for the anger in his eyes but finds none; there’s only concern and what looks to be...hesitation?

When he lifts an eyebrow, she realizes she hasn’t said anything yet. She should probably start with an apology, though she’s still stuffed up and her throat feels like it’s on fire, the guilt she has over what she said to him is worse than all of it combined. Killian didn’t deserve that, no matter what’s happening between them, and she knows the reason he showed up is because he cares. He’s a good man, and she’s just a coward who can’t accept when someone does something nice for her.

“H-hungry.”

_Well that’s not what you were supposed to say._

His eyes seem to brighten before he stands up straight. “Right, that’s good. I, uh, there’s soup warming on the stove, or if you would prefer something else…”

“Soup’s fine,” she mumbles, her stomach seeming to growl louder.

Following him into the kitchen, she curls her hands into the long-sleeved shirt she’s wearing and moves to get herself a bowl.

“I’ve got it, Swan,” he puts his hand on her lower back, “You go sit.”

Her first instinct is to bark that she can take care of herself, the words on the tip of her tongue, then she sees the small nod he gives in reassurance and she presses her lips together to keep quiet. Moving over to the island, she pulls herself up onto the stool.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“About four hours,” he answers while spooning the soup into a bowl. It looks delicious, too bad she can’t smell worth a damn and her taste buds are probably shot to hell. “I thought you might sleep through the night.”

“Hungry,” she repeats, her voice low.

When he turns back with the bowl, her mouth starts to water, and he’s barely placed it in front of her before she’s reaching for the spoon. There’s a low moan that passes her lips at the first bite; she was right about her taste buds, but it still tastes like heaven.

“Would you like some bread and butter?”

Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she nods before he’s moving to her cabinet. Chicken noodle soup is her absolute favorite. When she was younger, there was a foster mother, Ingrid, and she used to make it for her whenever she was sick. It’s one of the few good memories she has from her childhood...

Though this soup is better.

“Where did you get this?”

He looks back to her in question and she motions to the bowl. “I, uh, popped by Granny’s. Put it in the pot to keep it warm.”

Just before he looks back to the bread, she sees his jaw tick. He’s lying again, though she decides to let it go because the soup is really fucking good.

“It’s good.”

There’s a small smile on his face when he comes back with the bread and he nods. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Have you not eaten?” She asks when he turns to fix himself a bowl.

With a shake of his head, he leans back against the counter and mutters, “Was waiting to see if you would wake.”

She can’t help but stare at the way his biceps flex—fucking tank top—when he lifts the bowl up. There’s still a hint of black on his hands, grime from the cars that regular soap can’t wash away and her brow furrows. Looking over at her front door, she sees his boots next to the trash bag and his work shirt hanging from the hook on the back of her door.

“When did you come back?”

His entire body goes stiff for a quick second as his eyes flicker up to her then back down to his bowl.

“I never left.”

Her fork stops mid-air and her mouth falls open.

“So you just…stayed here to clean my apartment?”

There’s a clang as he lets his spoon drop into the bowl as he sighs, “I stayed for you.”

_Why?_

The question is heavy on her tongue, but that’s not what she asks.

“Does Liam know you’re here?”

“Don’t know.” His tone is low, almost uncaring as he dips a piece of bread into his soup.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“My brother is not my bloody keeper, Swan. I don’t have to inform him of every move I make.”

She takes another bite of her soup as her eyes move down. It’s no secret that Killian doesn’t answer very well to anyone trying to execute authority over him, just like it’s no secret that Liam likes to use the excuse of being the older brother as the reason why he’s allowed to execute said authority.

Just a few weeks back they got into a screaming match when Killian decided to go out with Robin and Will for a few drinks on a work night. Liam tried to—with not so many words—tell him he wasn’t allowed to go. Emma and Mary Margaret were out on the balcony when Killian stormed out, slamming the door in his wake.

She waited a bit to text him to make sure he was alright, but he blew it off and asked if he could come by when he was finished. She told him yes, of course, and by the time he showed up, he was completely wasted. She blushes as she remembers all the naughty things he whispered into her ear as she tried to wrestle him into the bed.

He was gone when she awoke, off to work like he hadn’t drank his weight in rum the night before and the next time she saw him he was just getting home while her and Liam were unloading groceries.

_“I do hope you were at least a gentleman to whichever woman you went home with last night.”_

Her jaw dropped at Liam’s words because she didn’t like thinking about Killian going home with another woman, but then she remembered the woman he went home with was _her_ , so she quickly shut it. When Killian disappeared inside after sending Liam a death glare, she smacked him upside the head for being such a dick and told him to go apologize before she kicked his ass. There were a few more hollers that came from inside their apartment, though by the time they all met for dinner, the brothers were back to being their normal selves.

“He might be worried…that’s all,” she mumbles as she rips her bread apart.

With a huff, he runs his hand through his hair. “He knows that you are sick, probably assumes this is where I am.”

Frowning, she pops a piece of bread into her mouth and asks, “Do you think he’s figured it out?”

He snorts, “Doubtful.”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t gotten any death threats.”

“Why would you get—” A sneeze cuts her off—three of them actually. By the time she’s done, she’s growling in frustration as Killian hands her a tissue. “Why would you get death threats?”

“Just let it go, Swan. He doesn’t know.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Why don’t you want anyone to know?” He cuts her off, his arms dropping to his sides and his eyes narrowing. “Is there a particular reason?”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times because she doesn’t know what to say. There are _plenty_ of reasons why she doesn’t want anyone to know about them…it’s just that she’s not sure he’ll understand. There are still a few habits she finds hard to break from when she younger and in foster care, habits that she’s come to live by and that make her feel safe.

One of those habits is that she has a hard time sharing. Of course, now that she’s an adult she’s learned to evolve—she always makes sure to buy an extra bear claw for Liam—but it doesn’t mean she has to share _everything_.

And the one thing she doesn’t want to share is Killian. She loves that she has something secret she doesn’t have to explain to anyone. It’s simple and easy, and _hers_.

“Forget it,” he breathes out when she doesn’t answer. “Just…forget I said anything.”

Guilt washes over her and her brows furrow. She doesn’t _want_ to forget about it, she wants to explain it to him and have him understand. She watches as he lifts the bowl back up to his chest and starts to eat in silence.

“You want to tell everyone?”

He doesn’t respond and his eyes stay locked on his food, only moving to bring the spoon to his lips for another bite. Her head is foggy and she feels light headed, though she’s not sure if it’s from her being sick...because if he wants everyone to know, she honestly doesn’t know what she’ll do. She’s not ready for that, not when she can barely admit to _herself_ that there’s something going on…something more.

She sneezes again but this time her breath catches and it throws her into a coughing fit. He’s by her side before she even realizes that he’s moved, handing her a tissue and a glass of water. After she’s finally settled down, she opens her mouth to repeat her question and he stops her.

“I want you to get well, alright? Let’s just concentrate on that for now.”

“Killian,” she sighs, her voice scratchy and rough. “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine in—” Another four sneezes and she growls. “I’m going to fucking cut my nose off, I swear!”

A breathless chuckle passes his lips as he takes her wadded tissues and tosses them into the trash.

“Don’t you dare, I’m rather fond of that nose.”

With a pout, she picks up her spoon and starts to eat again. Sometimes dealing with Killian is like having whiplash. Not five minutes ago he was agitated with her, now he’s flirting and she doesn’t know what to do. Should she let him have his way and let the conversation go, or should she demand they finally have a sit down and talk like adults about what is happening between them?

“Would you like another bowl?” He asks from over his shoulder as he washes his hands.

She swallows and gives a silent nod, not understanding why he’s being so caring. First, she accused him of only coming by for sex, then she refused to give him an answer as to why she doesn’t want their friends and family to know about them. He should be long gone, leaving her to fend for herself. She deserves it, and yet he’s serving her food and cleaning up her gross tissues.

“You could get sick, you know.”

He throws her a wink as he takes her bowl. “Don’t worry about me, love. I’m a survivor.”

She doesn’t respond, just sits there, itching her raw nose while he fills her bowl again. Silences falls between them as they eat, the only sounds coming from the TV in the background. She’d like to pretend they will be okay, that the conversation earlier will be forgotten and they’ll go back to how things use to be…but something tells her that now that words have been spoken, there’s no forgetting them.

When they are finished, she grumbles when he starts to clean up and he just waves her off. She feels helpless just sitting there—every time she tries to move, he gives her a firm look—and even though it’s unfamiliar, she finds him taking care of her…nice.

“Here,” he places a steaming mug of what looks to be tea in front of her along with two gel pills, “That’s cold and flu, and I’ve put honey in the tea—should help with your throat.”

He turns to walk away and she reaches out to stop him. There’re so many things she wants to say to him; she wants to apologize for earlier, she wants to thank him for looking after her, and she wants to tell him how scared she is that what they have is real, because if it’s real, it means it can be taken away.

But she’s never been good with words or expressing her feelings, the internal block she built long ago to protect herself keeping her from saying any of it, no matter how badly she wants to.

So, she does the only thing she can think of to tell him without _saying_ anything.

With her thumb brushing over his scarred flesh, she lifts her head and presses her lips to his. It feels like ages since they’ve kissed, and even though her body is aching, the all too familiar feeling of want starts to slowly spark in the pit of her stomach.

He pulls back first to rest his forehead against hers, and she frowns when she sees the pained look on his face.

“You’re still warm, love,” he mumbles. “Perhaps a bit more rest will help?”

Voice soft and low, she reaches up to play with the chain around his neck and asks, “Will you stay?”

The pained expression is back before he leans forward to press his lips to her forehead and whispers against her skin, “As you wish.”

* * *

It’s been three days since Emma was sick, three days since Killian’s question as to why she wants to keep them a secret has gone unanswered, and she doesn’t know what to do. He hasn’t brought it up and she knew that he wouldn’t, but she can tell it’s bothering him.

They haven’t had sex since before she was sick, and he hasn’t slept over since Monday…but that could be for many different reasons. Tuesday, Mary Margaret took over nursing duties, and the next time she saw him was when they all came up to her apartment to watch a movie to keep her company.

_“Just what I need, all of you hovering when I should be sleeping,” she jokes as Liam picks up the remote._

_David sits next to her on the couch and pulls her into his side. “Be quiet and enjoy the movie, sicky.”_

She ended up falling asleep with her head in David’s lap while Killian sat on the floor by her feet.

Wednesday, Regina asked her to look into the new reporter Sydney Glass. According to the Mayor, he was “suspicious,” and Thursday, David and Mary Margaret had an argument, so she spent most of the night listening to her sister-in-law vent. When she texted Killian to apologize, he seemed almost…unfazed.

**Figured as much, your brother is down here with us. Perhaps another night. – K**

Her brows furrowed at that because there was something about his words...he said _another_ night and not _tomorrow_ night. She didn’t call him out on it, because she figured it was just her brain over thinking things. He still sent her messages in the morning and spoke to her throughout the day. Maybe she is just worrying over nothing.

The sound of her phone makes her jump, but it's quickly forgotten when the ring isn't the one that tells her Killian is calling.

_“Oi, Liam has his own ringtone and I don't? I'm wounded, Swan.”_

_Rolling her eyes, she doesn't even look up from the screen as she shrugs. “I like Liam.”_

_“You like me.”_

_“I tolerate you.” He raises his eyebrow and gives her the smirk that makes her stomach flip. After a few seconds, she relents with a sigh, “Fine. I'll give you your own ringtone.”_

_“A jolly one, will you? Something that represents my charming personality.”_

_With a snicker, she nods. “I have the perfect one.”_

_He tries to look at her screen a few times but she swats him away, hiding it against her chest._

_“Am I not allowed know what it is?”_

_“Call and find out.”_

_His eyes narrow before he takes his phone out. It's a few seconds before her phone starts to ring._

‘You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you.’

_The look he gives her is so hilarious, she laughs until her sides hurt._

Swiping her thumb on the screen, she cradles her phone between her shoulder and her ear, “Hey, Ruby.”

_“Emma! My girl, my wonderful,_ beautiful _friend, how are you?”_

Pressing her lips together, she rolls her eyes. “What do you want?”

She hears Ruby chuckle before answering in a sweet voice, _“Can’t a girl just call up her friend to see how she's doing without wanting something?”_ Emma lifts her head and reaches up to hold the phone against her ear with narrowed eyes, keeping quiet. There's a quick second before Ruby huffs, _“Okay, fine. What are you doing tonight?”_

_Hopefully getting to spend time with Killian._

“Um, not sure. What's up?”

_“Dorothy’s older brother, Tim, just called and said he's coming into town tonight, but we have a dinner reservation…”_

“Okay,” she begins slowly as she clips a developing photo on the string to dry. “So, what do you need my help with?”

_“Will you come out with us tonight so Tim isn't the third wheel?”_

That makes her stop.

“What?”

_“Please! Dorothy hates leaving him since he's only able to visit for a short amount of time, and we’ve been trying to get reservations at this restaurant for months—”_

“You want me to come on a double date with you, Dorothy and her older brother?”

_“I'm begging, actually. She says she doesn't mind if we cancel the reservation, but I know my girlfriend. She's been looking forward to this, and you're the only person I can think of that would be willing.”_

Shaking her head, Emma mumbles, “Gee, thanks.”

_“You know what I'm saying!”_ Ruby argues. _“You’re single and have no one that you have to worry about.”_

Biting her lip, she doesn't say anything and sits down. Technically she _is_ single, her and Killian haven't made any commitments to each other, but the thought of going out on a date with someone else makes her almost sick to her stomach.

The only person she wants is Killian, even if she is too scared to admit that out loud. She's just not sure if he feels the same way, especially after what happened between them earlier in the week.

With a sigh, she opens her mouth to answer when the finished pictures hanging from the string catch her eye. She had thought the roll was from the week prior, but as she stares at the photos, her breath hitches and a memory her sleep-filled brain had forgotten flashes through her mind.

_It’s the clicking sound that wakes her, followed by the dip of the bed. Scrunching her face together, she wipes her hair away from her face and cracks an eye open to find the sun has barely risen._

_“Good morning, beautiful,” Killian whispers before he places a soft kiss to the shell of her ear._

_Humming, she reaches behind her and tangles her fingers in his hair._

_“What time is it?”_

_“Early,” he answers, pressing another kiss to her ear before she feels him sit up._

_The clicking sound returns, and when she looks over her shoulder, she finds him straddling her with her camera in his hands._

_“What are you doing?”_

_When he doesn’t answer, she rolls over onto her back to get a better look at him. The first rays of sun peek through the windows, highlighting part of his hair and jaw, making him look as if he’s almost glowing while he takes another picture. Reaching up, her fingers clasp around his necklace, pulling him down until his chest is flush with hers._

_“Preserving memories, Mr. Jones?” She asks in a mumble against his lips._

_He smiles as he kisses her with a whispered, “As if I could ever forget you, Miss Swan.”_

_Her legs wrap around his waist and she takes the camera from his hands. His lips are trailing down her neck as she places the camera on her bedside table, her finger pressing the timer button before she pulls his face to hers._

_He slides into her with a softness she’s never felt before and gasps._

_“Oh, Emma,” he breathes into her mouth, his left hand trailing up her arm until his fingers lace with hers. “You are so beautiful, my love.”_

_His thrusts are slow and his strokes are long, making his cock slide against her walls in the most delicious way. Lifting her hips, she squeezes his hand and lets out a soft moan._

_“Killian, God!”_

_They move together in perfect unison, their moans mixing together as they breathe in each other's air. Her heels drag up and down his calves while he presses light kisses under her ear. Her orgasm is intense—she feels it all the way to her toes—and by the time she's finally coming down, Killian collapses on top of her._

_Her body is a puddle of goo as he moves off to the side, pulling her with him to lay on his chest. His hand reaches up to cup her face, thumb brushing across the swell of her cheek as he softly kisses her brow over and over while she runs her fingers through the hair on his chest._

_Just as she’s falling back into a deep sleep, she feels his lips against her cheek, lingering there for a moment before they drag up to her temple and he says, “Emma?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_She falls asleep before he answers, but she thinks she hears a whispered, “Can I keep you?”_

The next time she saw him was when they all got together for their Sunday dinner, then she was sick.

Tears prick her eyes and her heart pounds in her chest. It was the most intimate and tender moment of her entire life, and she'd forgotten about it.

_“Emma?”_ Ruby’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts. _“Are you there?”_

Blinking twice, she tries to will her heart to calm and says, “I'm going to have to call you back.”

She hangs up before Ruby can answer and covers her mouth as she stares at the five photos. There's one of him she took before they fell asleep where he's lying on his back, eyes closed with no shirt on, two when she's sleeping on her stomach with her hair fanned out around her, one when she turned over, her eyes half open and a small smile on her face, and one of them that the timer had been able to capture.

Their foreheads are pressed together, his thumb and forefinger are holding her chin in place, and they both have small smiles on their faces.

Grabbing her bag, she stuffs her phone into it and runs out. It'd only take her five minutes to walk to the shop, but she can't spare the time, so she drives.

She has to get to Killian, they need to talk…she misses him, misses _them,_ and she feels she might be finally ready to—

Her steps halt and her heart drops into her chest, because just outside of the shop is Killian, and he's not alone. Standing before him is a petite blonde who’s giggling as she puts her hands on his chest and leans in.

Emma's eyes close, a slight gasp leaving her lips before she turns and runs back to her car. Her hands are shaking and she drops her keys twice before she’s able to put them in her ignition and drive off.

Stupid...she’s so _fucking_ stupid and the ache in her chest is proof.

She doesn’t do relationships, she doesn’t fall for people, because falling for someone is nothing but disappointment in the end, and she ends up fucking it up somehow and then they leave.

They always leave.

Why the hell would she believe that Killian would be any different? Just because they were friends first doesn’t mean shit, but she at least thought it would make things _easier_ , that he would care enough to tell her when he started to see someone.

She doesn’t know why she’s surprised...after what happened between them, after everything she said...

Parking outside of her building, her hands tighten around the steering wheel as she tries to control her breathing. She can’t explain the feeling that’s in the pit of her stomach; she’s never felt this way before and she doesn’t know what to do.

Again, she let herself be fooled by someone, and it’s eating away at her, but she _refuses_ to give in. If Killian is going to see someone else, there’s no reason she can’t either. Reaching for her phone, she hits a few buttons before bringing it up to her ear.

“Hey Ruby, it’s me. I’ll go on that date tonight.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to April & Mandy. I don’t deserve you two. <3  
> All I can say is that I hope this chapter lives up to all your expectations. :D Double line breaks mean change in POV.

**Chapter Twelve**

**Your brother just stopped by my dark room to say goodbye, he’s all excited. I may or may not have swiped his phone from his bag so he can relax all weekend without any interruptions, how mad do you think he’ll be? – E**

Killian snorts.

**If he heeds my advice, he’ll be blissfully unaware until they are well on their way back on Sunday. – K**

**Eh, I’ll put it on his bedside table, maybe he’ll think he forgot it. – E**

Killian’s thumbs hover over his phone as he has an inward debate with himself. He wants to ask her if she’ll be coming over after he’s done working, but things have been so strained between them lately, he’s unsure as to how the question will come off.

On one hand, they’ve spent much of their free time together almost since he first moved to Storybrooke, so one might assume her stopping by is a very strong possibility. On the other hand, she’s not said anything to him at all about it.

Liam informed him last week that he and Belle would be taking their first vacation together, and while Killian was happy for his brother, he couldn’t help the wave of excitement that ran through him. With Liam gone, he would no longer have to worry about leaving Emma’s flat early in the morning. He could actually be there when she awakens and perhaps make her breakfast in bed.

But she’s not spoken a word of it to him, in fact, they’ve not spoken on their _“fling_ ” since before she was sick, and he hasn’t had the pleasure of feeling her lips since Tuesday morning before he left for work. It’s the longest they’ve gone without sneaking off since this whole thing between them started, and if he’s being quite honest, it frightens him a bit.

What if she’s pulling away from him? What if this is no longer what she wants? What if he’s not enough?

Letting out a sigh, he leans his elbow on the desk and puts his head in his hands. He had thought they were getting somewhere, that they might be moving forward, then when he asked her the real reason why she wished to keep them a secret, she didn’t have an answer.

It was no matter, her silence was the only answer he needed.

She was ashamed of him, not that he can really blame her. He came from nothing and had no future to speak of. He was pathetic; one could even make the argument that he wasn’t even a man, but that doesn’t mean he wishes for things to be different. All his life, deep down, all he’s wanted to be was a good man, and though he’s lost his way on more than one occasion, he thinks he finally may be on the right path.

And it’s all thanks to Emma.

She’s the light at the end of the tunnel, the reason he wishes to let go of all the pain and hurt from his past and look to the future with hope…he just has to show her that he’s more than just a toy.

“Killian?”

Turning around, he finds a woman walking into the garage with short blonde hair, hazel eyes and an unsure smile on her face.

“Aye?”

The smile widens as she takes a step forward. “I’m Tina, Mary Margaret’s friend from the hospital.”

His brow furrows for half a second until it clicks. She’s the woman that his mate’s dear wife wished to set him up with.

“Oh,” he gasps in surprise before standing and wiping his hand on his pants to offer it to her. “Yes, of course. How are you?”

There’s a slight blush as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m good. I’m actually here to pick up my car…I dropped it off earlier for an inspection.”

“Ah.” He moves over to the wall where he keeps the keys. “The Mazda 3, am I correct?”

“Um, yu-yes,” she nods.

Giving a grin, he holds the keys out to her, “Everything checks out. Though, I would say you’re probably going to need some new tires within the next ten thousand miles or so.”

“Thank you,” she smiles. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“Gus will help you with the paperwork if you just go through those doors right—”

“Oh, I already paid the bill. I just…I wanted to come say hello. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good I hope,” he chuckles while itching his jaw and she giggles.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he forces himself to relax and folds his arms over his chest as she attempts to hold a conversation. Tina seems to be a sweet lass, and she’s very good looking, though every time she throws a flirtatious smile his way or slaps his arm in a playful manner, a wave of guilt hits him.

This woman is obviously hoping for something to happen between them, and were it months prior, he would reward her advances with a wink and a suggestion of taking a tour of the back of the garage where he would shag her senseless in a closet.

But everything is different, and he no longer craves that sort of adventure. No, the adventure he craves is sitting on a balcony under the stars with his love while they talk about their day.

“I’m so glad we finally got a chance to meet,” Tina says as she twirls her hair around her finger. “Mary Margaret said she was going to try and get you to come by the hospital, but…”

Letting out a nervous laugh, he rubs the back of his ear. “Well, I’ve spent my fair share at hospitals, so I tend to avoid them unless I’m dying…and possibly even then.”

He presses his lips together as she giggles and takes a step forward. His body goes stiff when she places her hands on his chest and leans in. “What do you say to having dinner with me tonight? I’m told my _pie_ is to die for.”

There’s a clear invitation in her words, and while he respects her straight-forwardness, he can’t help but flinch at how wrong it all feels. Her hands are too small, her hair isn’t the right shade of blonde…

What it all boils down to is that she’s not Emma.

Stepping back, Killian gives a polite smile as he reaches up to remove her hands from his chest. “While I’m flattered, lass, I have to decline.”

Her brow furrows before she gives a slight nod. “You’re seeing someone.”

“Aye.”

“I’m sorry.” A pink flush covers her cheeks as she scratches her forehead. “Mary Margaret told me you were single…”

He presses his lips together.

“I assure you that she meant no ill will, she’s unaware of my attachment at the moment.”

“It’s Emma, isn’t it?” His head snaps up, his eyes going slightly wide and she nods, “I should have known. She was there when Mary Margaret suggested that I ask you out…the look on her face was—” She shakes her head and chuckles, “—you can tell she wasn’t very happy about it. I thought she was just being protective, but now I know it’s because you two are together.”

His mouth falls open as he processes what she’s telling him. When Mary Margaret spoke to him about Tina, Emma acted as if she was on board with the idea, that it didn’t faze her at all. Wiping his hand down his lips, his eyes close as his head falls back with a sigh.

He was a fool, a complete and utter fool. Emma is the kindest soul he’s ever known, of course she wouldn’t think so little of what they share, and from the little tidbit that Tina’s just told him, he starts to believe his feelings aren’t entirely one sided. His hands start to shake with excitement, and he has the sudden urge to run home, to burst through her flat and pull her into his arms.

He’s done with keeping everything in, done with not telling her how he feels. He wants to tell her it doesn’t matter to him if the whole town knows or if she still wishes to keep it hidden...because he’s in it for the long haul.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he turns back to Tina with a slight smile. “My apologies, lass, but I have to get going. If you have any problems with your car, just give me a call…”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she assures him with a smile. “Thank you, Killian.”

It’s as if time slows as he waits for Tina to pull away, and when she does, he has his phone to his ear. He bounces on his feet as it rings, adrenaline pumping through him at a fast pace. She doesn’t answer, and though it’s disappointing, he refuses to allow it to damper his mood. He decides against leaving a message because what he wishes to say is too important to be said on a voicemail.

Tapping his phone against his lips, he rushes back into the garage. He still has an hour until he’s finished work and he plans on keeping himself busy to make time move faster.

It doesn’t.

His entire body is shaking by the time he finally gets home and he takes the stairs two at a time, not even bothering to stop at his own flat. Knocking on her door twice, he fights against the nature to wait and does what she’s always asked of him, to walk in.

“Swan? Are you home?”

His smile falters slightly when he sees Mary Margaret walk out instead of Emma.

“Hey, Killian,” she greets with a smile, some sort of garment thrown over her arm. “What’s up?”

“Hello, lass. Is Emma around?”

The brunette nods and motions over her shoulders. “She’s in her room getting ready. Have you talked to my husband today?”

“Aye.” He reaches up to scratch the back of his ear and nods. “He, uh, he stopped by for lunch.” Mary Margaret presses her lips together before looking down at the clothes in her arms. With a sigh, he steps forward and places his hand on her elbow. “How are you, milady?”

With a shake of her head, she gives him what is clearly a forced smile and looks up, “I’m fine, but if I call you later and ask you to bring a shovel and lime, remember I know where you sleep.”

“I know nothing,” he responds, his hands held up in surrender as he tips his head.

There’s a sparkle in her eye before she leans forward and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Call me later if you want to do dinner since it’ll just be the three of us.”

She walks toward the door and his brow furrows. “The three of us?”

“Yeah,” she calls over her shoulder. “With Liam away and Emma going out on her date, it’ll just be the three of us. Maybe we can order some pizza.”

He whips around at her words, unsure that he’s heard her correctly. “Apologies, Emma’s doing _what_?”

Waving her hand in the air, Mary Margaret shushes him, “Don’t make a big deal out of it, she’s already nervous, and I don’t want her changing her mind. There’s something that’s been bothering her the last couple days and I think this will be good for her.”

His heart drops to the pit of his stomach and he suddenly feels nauseous. Forcing himself to stay upright, he waits until Mary Margaret is out the door before he stumbles back against the island in her kitchen. There has to be some sort of mistake, Emma couldn’t possibly be going out on a date with someone, not when they are…

Shaking his head, he runs his hand through his hair and stares down the hall.

None of what’s happening makes any sense to him. The last time they were together she was so loving, caring, and accepting of his tenderness...he thought for sure she felt as he did, especially after what Tina told him.

But now she’s going on a _date_?

He tries to wrap his head around the situation and calm down. They’ve made no commitments to each other, though he thought he at least was due the courtesy to be made aware she was planning to see other people.

_“Oh, please, Killian,” Milah chuckles as she secures the watch on her wrist. “Do not pretend you are more important than you actually are. You need know nothing unless I deem it so, are we clear?”_

Clenching his jaw, he turns and walks down the hall toward Emma’s bedroom. With a deep breath, he lifts his hand and knocks on her bedroom door.

“Swan?”

There’s a beat before she calls out for him to enter and when he does, all breath leaves his lungs. She’s wearing black heels, her legs are bare, and the dress she’s wearing is red and hugs her body so tightly, it’s as if it’s another layer of skin.

“You look…” _Sinful_. He shakes his head. “Big plans tonight?”

Part of him wishes that Mary Margaret misunderstood, that perhaps this whole _date_ is a ruse, that Emma is really planning something for them to—

“I have a date.”

_So much for wishing_.

He watches as she leans closer to her mirror to apply her lipstick and stutters, “A d-date? With whom?”

“Dorothy’s brother, Tim,” she reaches up to swipe at the right corner of her lips. “He’s in town for the weekend and we’re all going out to eat.”

Her answer throws him; she’s speaking as if this is the most normal thing in the world, and when it’s clear she doesn’t plan to explain any further, he scratches the back of his head.

“I, uh,” he looks to the side, a dry chuckle passing his lips, “I guess I’m just a little confused. I was unaware that you and this person were…”

He lets his words trail off because when he attempts to say them out loud, they get caught in the back of his throat with a choking stutter.

“We’re not,” she shrugs, her hands running down the front of her dress, and it’s then he realizes she’s refusing to look at him. “Ruby called and asked if I would go out with Dorothy’s brother and I said yes.”

“You...said yes?” His voice is laced with confusion.

There’s something strange about the sound of her voice. It’s...off, colder than normal—it almost reminds him of when they first met.

“Mhm.”

Taking a step back, he blinks twice before he shakes his head. There are so many things he wishes to say. Perhaps he was wrong before in thinking she felt as he did. His eyes flicker over to her bed and his brow furrows. Just three days prior, he was laying there with her curled around his body as he read from her favorite book.

_“I like listening to your voice.”_

“Have I done something to upset you, love?”

Walking over to the closet, she hides behind the door and says, “What could you have done to upset me?”

_Not giving you space...refusing to leave when you were sick...asking why you didn’t want people to know because of my own insecurities. The list is endless._

Shifting his weight to his right, he shrugs and motions to her, “You’re clearly upset about something, Swan, do you forget that I can read you?”

“I’m not upset about anything.” He cracks his neck at her obvious lie. “Maybe you’re bad at reading me.”

He almost snorts because of how laughable her comment is. Does she not realize how obvious she’s being? Constantly moving about, refusing to make eye contact...she couldn’t be more obvious if she walked up and slapped him across the face.

“I’m not,” his voice is clipped and he moves forward. “You’re telling me that you’ve just decided for no particular reason to go out on a date with some bloke you’ve never met.”

She walks back over to her dresser with a small purse in her hand and shrugs. “What does it matter?”

“Alright,” he moves with his hand held out in front of him, irritation dripping from his voice, “Let’s just move past the part where we act as if we haven’t been together for the last month and have an actual conversation, yeah?” He sees her body go rigid and he steps in close to her. “Why are you doing this?”

She still refuses to look at him as she begins to stuff items into her purse. “We’re not in a relationship...”

He flinches at her words and mumbles, “I k-know.”

“Which means we’re both free to do whatever we want—wasn’t that the point of this whole thing?”’

He swallows before asking in a whisper, “And going out on a date with this _Tim_...that is what you want?”

She doesn’t answer and a flicker of hope runs through him. There’s something else happening, something she’s not telling him.

“You should go,” her voice is as cold as ice. “He’ll be here any minute.”

_“I’m meeting my_ husband,  _Killian, leave!”_

When she attempts to walk past, he catches her arm to stop her, and he doesn’t miss the small gasp that passes her lips.

“Look at me, Emma.” There’s a moment before she finally drags her eyes up to his. They are dark and guarded, but he can still see the hint of vulnerability that lies deep within. “Why are you doing this?”

For a quick second, he believes he’s broken through to her, that he’s finally cracked through her armor enough that she’ll explain to him the real reason behind all of this—but then she moves her eyes down and he knows all hope is lost.

“I already asked you once to go.”

Her voice is like a dagger to his heart, and it takes all the strength he has not to fall apart.

“Right, fine,” he lets her arm drop, “No need to ask again.”

Without another word, he pushes himself out the front door, but leaving his heart behind.

* * *

* * *

It takes Emma about three seconds into her “date” to realize she’s made a terrible mistake. Tim is sweet, funny, the whole package, really. If things were different, she might have actually given him a shot, but every time she looks at him, all she can think about is how he isn’t Killian.

Tim is dark where Killian is fair and fair where Killian is dark. He’s stockier than Killian—Ruby keeps joking how his arms are like tree trunks and Emma should feel them—but only a hair taller than her where she sometimes has to stand up on her toes to reach Killian.

Throughout the date she forces smiles, laughs when it’s deemed appropriate and pretends that she’s not thinking about a certain blue-eyed Brit every five seconds.

It’s not like she’s done anything wrong, he’s got something going on with Tina—she ignores the bile in the back of her throat—so why can’t she go out with someone else? Though she can’t seem to shake the hurt in his voice.

_“And going out on a date with this Tim...that is what you want?”_

Something deep inside of her, hidden behind her many walls and years of hurt, screamed no, that what she wants is him. It was the same part that wanted to holler and throw things, to demand for him to tell her why she wasn’t enough, but she couldn’t show any ounce of weakness—he can’t know how much he affects her.

She ignores the voice in the back of her head that tells her this whole thing could have been avoided if they had sat down like adults and _talked_ about what they were doing. Then maybe she wouldn’t be on this date and he wouldn’t be with—

Shaking her head, she tries to push the image of the two of them to the back of her mind and concentrate on the man sitting next to her, maybe that will help.

It doesn’t.

“Emma?”

She looks up from her meal to find everyone staring at her.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

Tim gives a reassuring smile while Ruby’s head tilts, “We asked if you wanted to order some dessert.”

“Oh,” she gasps and looks down, she hadn’t even realized her plate had been taken. “Um, sure.”

“Are you okay?” Tim asks, sounding worried.

He reaches out to touch the side of her arm and she jumps, the words _“I’m with someone”_ almost falling from her lips. All of their eyes are on her and she forces herself not to blush.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m just going to run to the bathroom real quick.”

As she pushes herself up out of her chair, all she can think about is how if she were out with Killian, he would have stood with her, because he’s really three hundred years old and believes in “good form”.

Walking into the bathroom, she lets out a sigh when she finds it empty and moves to the counter. It’s out of instinct that she checks her phone, and even though she knows there isn’t going to be a message from him, it doesn’t stop the ache in her chest.

If she’s honest with herself, there was a small part that hoped he would have reacted more to the news of her date, to show that perhaps it mattered—because if it mattered to him, it would be okay that it matters to her.

Looking up when she hears the door open, she forces a smile when she sees Dorothy through the reflection.

“Hey, sorry,” she puts her phone back into her clutch, “Was I gone long?”

Dorothy approaches, her eyes soft and her head tilted.

“Emma, what are you doing here?”

With her brows furrowed, she motions behind her. “I was just using the bath—”

“No,” Dorothy cuts her off, moving closer. “I mean, why did you agree to come on this date?”

Emma’s mouth opens and closes a few times before she forces a smile. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I?”

There’s a moment before Dorothy gives her a sad smile. “Because of Killian.”

Emma’s body goes stiff, and she tries to keep her face blank even though her heart is pounding in her chest.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Dorothy breathes out. “If I wasn’t sure about it before, your reaction just cleared it up for me.” Emma turns back to the counter and looks down. “Why are you here? Did you guys break up?”

Letting out a sigh, she gives a dry chuckle and shrugs, “We’re not even really _together_ so we can’t ‘break up’...we’ve just been…” She trails off and shakes her head. “We haven’t talked about it.”

“But it’s open enough for you to be able to go out on a date with someone else?” Emma squirms at Dorothy’s words and reaches up to rub the side of her neck. “What happened?”

“Nothing—look,” she turns to her friend and places her hand on the counter, “it’s no big deal, it was just a fling and it’s o-over.”

The sound of her blood rushing through her body is the only thing she hears. She remembers what it was like when she realized things were over with Neal; it hurt, but she ignored it because of the baby that was growing inside of her.

Then she had the miscarriage and her hurt turned to anger, and it was easier. When people would ask, she would tell them it was over without even a stutter.

Now, saying those words in reference to Killian has her almost gagging.

“Yeah, you really look like you want it to be over,” Dorothy mumbles. “Emma, you need to go home, and you need to talk to Killian.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she lies with a grin, “I’m here, he’s probably out, everything is fine.”

Dorothy holds up her hand, blocking Emma from leaving, and says, “Ruby and Tim might not have seen it, but I have. You’re miserable here.”

“I’m not miserable!”

“Okay, maybe that was the wrong word to use...you’re not having fun,” she steps back and gives her a pointed look. “I appreciate you helping us tonight, but you need to go home and talk to your boyfriend.”

Her heart flutters at Dorothy’s words, and though she fights it, the right side of her lips curl up into a tiny smile.

“I can’t just—”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Dorothy gasps with fake concern. “The chicken you ate just didn’t sit right in your stomach and you had to leave.” She opens her mouth as Dorothy backs away, but the brunette points at her, “Don’t try to argue—if you come out of this bathroom and back to the table, you’ll have to explain why I would lie.”

Emma’s eyes widen as Dorothy lets out what she can only describe as an evil laugh before disappearing out the door. Of course the little witch is right; if she returns to the table, she’ll have to think of a reason as to why Dorothy would lie, and Ruby won’t let it go because she’s like that and then Mary Margaret would get involved because those two are quite possibly the _worst_ at pestering—

She lets out a large puff of air and runs her hand down her face. Dorothy may want her to go home and talk to Killian, but she’s not too sure that’s what she’ll do. What would she say anyway?

_I only went on the date so I didn’t look like a fool because I thought we weren’t seeing other people._

Yeah, that’s not happening.

The valet brings her car right away, and the entire drive home she’s plagued with thoughts of Killian.

It’s strange, whenever things ended with people in the past, she moved on, didn’t harp too much on it and never thought about making it better. Now, she craves for that bravery, because there’s something in her that’s saying to run to him, to make it all okay again.

How is it possible that, in such a short amount of time, someone can change everything she thought she knew?

Pulling up to the building, she steps out of her car and presses her lips together. There’s a light coming from Killian’s apartment and she moves without thinking. Running to the side, she leans down to rip off her heels before climbing the stairs up to his balcony. His window is open as it always is, and she drops her heels and cell phone on his bedroom floor before rushing out into the hall.

The first thing she notices is the smell; it’s a mixture of cigarette smoke and rum. The next thing is that no lights are on, there’s only a flicker of candle light coming from the living room and it’s eerily quiet.

“Well, well, well,” she jumps before spinning around to find Killian leaning against the wall behind her, a half-empty bottle of rum in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other, “What do we have here?”

“Christ,” she breathes out, bringing her hand to her chest. “You scared me.”

His eyes narrow as he tilts his head. “Did I?”

She watches as he brings the cigarette to his mouth. He fumbles for a second before his lips wrap securely around it to take a long drag.

“You’re drunk.”

He sways forward slightly, motioning to her with his bottle while the cigarette dangles from his lips. “You’re a perceptive one, aren’t you?”

Before she can respond, he pushes himself past her and walks down the hall toward the living room where he plops himself down onto the couch. Following him, she flicks the switch to turn on the overhead light, making Killian squint and grumble. It’s then she gets a good look at him, and what she sees has her fighting back tears.

His hair is in such disarray, like he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly, his eyes are bloodshot from the alcohol he’s drank, and he never even bothered to button his shirt, leaving his delicious chest on full display.

It doesn’t make sense why he would be this drunk, she’s only been gone for three hours and Mary Margaret told her she would keep him company.

“Where’s my brother?”

“It seems that the Charming’s have overcome their quarrel,” he answers with a shrug before taking another drag of his cigarette. “I elected to fend for myself so that they may make up for lost time.”

“And that means drinking an entire bottle of rum?”

He holds it up with a smirk.

“Never hurts.” She steps forward with her mouth open to talk, but he cuts her off, “So how was your date?” He says it with such distaste, his tongue clicking on the “t”.

She flinches at his words, swallowing the guilt she feels from her earlier ambivalence about it, and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

“That’s actually why I’m here,” she takes a deep breath, “I wanted to see you.”

His eyes snap up to hers as he leans forward to put out his cigarette. It seems like hours pass before he gives a dark chuckle and shakes his head.

“Ah, I see,” he sits back, resting the bottle on his thigh. He’s quiet for a moment before he throws her a grin. “If the lady insists.”

Her brow furrows as he places the bottle on the coffee table before standing. His hands move to his belt and her eyes go wide.

Rushing over to him, she slaps his hands away, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Giving you what you came for.” He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“ _What_?”

“It’s why you’re here, is it not?” There’s a hitch in his voice and he quickly clears his throat before looking up at her, face masked with indifference. “You have an itch that needs scratching.”

Anger starts to rise in her and her fists clench at her sides.

“You really think I would go out on a date with someone else and then come _here_ for sex? Wow,” a breathless chuckle passes her lips, “it’s nice to know what you think of me.”

His eyes darken. “Well I didn’t think you’d so casually go out with someone else, so I guess I’m wrong on multiple accounts.”

She scoffs. “Oh, so you’re allowed to see whoever and I’m not?”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

She debates whether to even say it, not wanting him to know how much it bothered her, but after a minute mutters, “I saw you with Tina.”

“Aye,” his brows pinch together in what seems to be confusion, “What of it?”

“What of…” The words die before she can finish and she shakes her head. “Do you hear yourself right now?”

“I fail to see how having a conversation with a lass is the same as you going out on a date!”

Her hands start to shake as she growls, “You two were all over each other!”

“I never bloody touched her!” He hollers.

“Don’t try and tell me what I saw! You two were—”

“No!” He barks, cutting her off. “You are _wrong_. Tina did stop by the shop, she had her car worked on, and, alright, she might have been a little _forward_ when asking me out, but I turned her down.”

She blinks, her eyes searching for the tick in his jaw, but it never comes. “What?”

“Aye, told her that I was seeing someone.” She moves forward and opens her mouth, but he raises his hand to stop her. “I know I’m your dirty little secret, alright? You’ve made it bloody clear I’m just your plaything on the side.”

She almost asks him to repeat himself, because what he’s just said is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. Her _plaything_? They’ve spent every moment they can together, and she texts him so much it’s starting to become embarrassing. Why would he thin—

_“Why don’t you want anyone to know, is there a particular reason?”_

A soft gasp passes her lips.

_What has she done?_

Emotions run through her; guilt over making him feel like he’s been nothing, anger at herself for being so clueless at how she was treating him...

All because she was scared of losing him.

“That’s what you think?” Her words come out softer than she intends, like what he’s admitted is just sinking in. “That I’m ashamed of you?”

The tightness in his jaw tells her she hit the nail on its head and her guilt worsens tenfold.

There’s silence for a few minutes, and she watches as he picks up the bottle, avoiding her gaze.

“Go home, Emma,” his voice is so low, she almost doesn’t hear him as he takes a step back. “You can play with your toy some other night.”

Tears blur her vision and bile starts to rise in the back of her throat. She wants to throw up, she wants to yell, she wants to scream...but the only person she has to blame is herself. Turning to the window, she moves to open it and stops.

It would be easy to leave, let their emotions cool off for a couple days and then move on like nothing ever happened. They are both thick-skinned, they could handle it—well, _he_ could—but that’s not what she wants.

With a deep breath, she turns back around to find Killian sitting on the couch again, his head in his hands.

“Whenever I started dating someone in the past, it was never really a big deal,” she starts softly as she wrings her hands together. “I’d bring them around, we’d all hang out...but I would make it clear that it wasn’t a relationship.” Killian lifts his head to look at her, his brow furrowed. “Everyone would always make comments, ask me why I wouldn’t try to take the next step.” A dry laugh passes her lips, “Mary Margaret use to say, _‘you can’t just ignore your humanity for the rest of your life_ ’.” Killian’s staring at her so intently it makes her heart race. “Anyway, um, but they would pester me so much about it that it made me resent the person I was seeing, and eventually I would break things off with them.”

Moving forward, she sits down on the coffee table in front of him and puts her hands in her lap. “I didn’t want that to happen with you. I do a pretty good job at fucking things up on my own—as you can see—and I didn’t want anyone else helping, because I didn’t want to lose you.” His eyes flicker back and forth between hers and she takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry I made you feel that way and I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. I’m not good with that…or with words, but I _promise_ I can try...just tell me what you want.”

It’s a physical battle with her instincts to stay seated and not run, she actually has to lock her muscles into place to keep herself from moving. It’s been _years_ since she’s been so open about her feelings with someone other than her brother, and it absolutely terrifies her.

Killian is silent for a long while, so long that the cold, hard fear of rejection starts to make her brow sweat. With each passing moment, she starts to regret not leaving when he told her to, because he obviously—

“You,” he breathes out, making her eyes snap up to him. “I _just_ want you.”

A large gush of air escapes her lungs and her shoulders sag in relief before she reaches up to cup his face, “You have me... _completely._ ”

There’s a beat before he breathes out a chuckle while leaning forward and pulling her into his lap. She instantly melts against his body, all the tension and fear draining from her.

Later that night, she’s resting her head on the crook of his neck, allowing the calming bliss after their coupling to wash over her as he brings their hands up above them. He turns her hand over, brushing his fingers against her palm before intertwining them with her own. Propping her chin on his shoulder, she watches as he stares at their hands, a look in his eyes she can’t quite explain. He rubs his thumb on the inside of her palm, and she’s just about to ask him if everything’s alright when he stops and brings her fingers to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles before resting them on his chest.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are these two girls, one who edits the fuck out of these and one who made this sweet ass banner, and I love them both so much.

**Chapter Thirteen**

Emma is having a very enticing dream that involves Killian and chocolate syrup when something tickles the tip of her nose. Scrunching it up, she moves her nose around before the lull of sleep begins to pull her back under. Just as she’s about to fall back to sleep, the tickling starts again and she reaches up to bat at whatever is touching her.

There’s a deep chuckle and her eyes pop open. Killian’s lying next to her, his cheek pressed to the pillow, eyes still slightly swollen with sleep and a small smirk on his face.

Lifting her head, she sees that it’s just after seven in the morning and groans.

“Too early.”

“I know, love,” she feels his lips press to her brow and hers tug into a smile, “But we have to meet with everyone.”

Pouting, she moves to press her face into his neck—her nook—and takes a deep breath. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is, he always smells of spice with a hint of orange from the soap he uses to wash off the ‘car guts’ as she likes to call them, and she loves it. It’s one of those scents she wishes she could bottle up and spray throughout her entire apartment.

“What do you think the chances are they’ll notice if we don’t show up?”

She feels him chuckle. “Have they ever let you get away with not showing up before?”

There’s a grimace as she remembers the time she refused to get out of bed, telling them to just make the decisions without her so she could sleep. David showed up not five minutes later to throw her over his shoulder and forced coffee down her throat when she tried to argue.

“You’re probably right.”

Killian pushes himself out of her bed and she takes a second to appreciate the way his back muscles move while he puts his shirt on.

“Do you still go to the gym everyday after work?”

“When I can,” he answers before standing, pulling his pants up with him. “Though it seems lately, I’ve found other means of staying fit.” She giggles as he leans down to press a soft kiss to her lips. Reaching up, she cups his face and he hums. “Bloody insatiable, you are. Come now, it’s your turn for breakfast.”

Picking up her phone, she sits up and says, “Could you imagine if Granny’s delivered breakfast? That would be amazing.”

“She’d make a fortune off you alone, darling,” he calls out from the bathroom.

“Damn right,” she mumbles while bringing up the Instagram app.

Most of her notifications are from the photo she uploaded of her, Liam and Killian, with the caption **_‘Double the Jones, double the fun!’_** —

_“Really, Swan?”_

—but it’s the notifications from an old photo that have her giggling. For weeks, Ruby, Dorothy, and a few others have been going back and forth on a picture of her and Killian, wondering what her emojis mean.

**_‘Red commented: Oh! I finally got it! The stars are because your hair is blonde and the clock is because Killian is British! Nailed it!’_ **

Emma never comments—she hasn’t told _anyone_ besides Killian what they mean and that was only because he wouldn’t leave her alone about them.

_“Does it matter?”_

_“Oh, it matters,” he insists with a smile, his nose nudging against her cheek. “I know you, love, and those blasted emojis mean something, so why not just tell me?”_

_She bites her bottom lip and ducks her face into her folded arms. It’s been so long since she started using them, she’d thought he hadn’t noticed—hoped is more like it._

_“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she relents. “But once I do, you can’t say a word...promise?” He opens his mouth and she raises her brows, making him quickly shut it and nod. “Um, well, the, uh, the clock...it’s…” She takes a deep breath. “The clock shows the time of two, that’s the time we first kissed, and the stars represent how I…” She trails off with an exasperated sigh as her eyes flicker over to him._

_When she started her explanation, Killian’s lips were pressed together, almost like he was trying to hold back his laugh, but after she finishes...it’s amazing how_ soft _his face gets. His eyes seem to glisten and his lips part, and though her heart feels like it’s going to come up out of her throat, she forces a nervous smile. He keeps to his promise and doesn’t say a word, instead fusing his lips with hers._

_They don’t leave his bed for the rest of the day._

“Why are we meeting this early again?” She asks with a groan as she pushes past him to get to the toilet.

She watches as he finishes brushing his teeth—with _her_ toothbrush—before he answers, “Don’t know, but I doubt it’ll take long, we all have work.”

“ _You_ all have work,” she grumbles after flushing the toilet.

He pokes at her side while she washes her hands and she bumps her hip against his to force him to move.

“Have you given much thought to David’s proposal?”

Last week, her brother mentioned that he might be looking for a deputy and asked if she was interested in the job. At first, she laughed at him, thinking he was joking, because the thought of her being in law enforcement is just crazy, but then he told her he was serious, and she didn’t know what to say.

Emma has always loved her job; she started it just out of high school, doing small things around Boston or for Ruth’s friends, it wasn’t until she turned twenty-one that she was able to actually make a career out of it. Though lately, she’s started to notice how it’s become more of a hindrance than enjoyable.

Her cases used to be challenging, now they are more repetitive, and while traveling used to give her an escape when Storybrooke would feel more like a prison than a home, she finds it now almost exhausting. The hotel rooms are cold and lonely, and it’s not long before she’s working extra hard just so she can get home sooner—the last case she had, she worked through the night, not sleeping until it was solved.

But it’s still _her_ job, something she built from the ground up, she can’t just throw it away because she’s getting tired. Though accepting David’s offer would have its perks; she wouldn’t have to leave Killian for days at a time just to have a client yell at her because they didn’t like what she found.

And she could go without getting punched in the face.

On her last job—another cheating spouse—the husband was having an affair with the wife’s sister, who just so happened to walk into her client’s office when Emma was giving her the pictures. There was screaming and yelling that eventually lead to it getting violent.

Emma caught a fist to the face when she tried to break the two sisters up, leaving her with a swollen cheek. When she got home, Killian held an ice pack to her face and called her Rocky with a smirk, but she could clearly see the concern in his eyes.

Still, she has to think about it.

“Can you grab my wallet? I left it in the kitchen.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees Killian tilt his head, and for a second she thinks he’s not going to let her change the subject. They talked about it briefly, but then she started to get agitated and he just kissed her temple and didn’t bring it up again.

“Alright,” he mumbles and she holds back her sigh of relief. “Can you promise me that we’ll discuss it soon though? I’ll support any decision you make, love, but it’s important to look at every road.”

He’s right, of course, though she’ll never say it—his ego doesn’t need to get any bigger. With a small nod, she smiles as he presses his lips to her cheek before walking out.

She’s never been a fan of change. Making life altering decisions is too much pressure and she usually always makes the wrong choice. Then again, the last time she made a life altering decision, Killian came into her life, and nothing about that choice has been wrong.

Throwing her hair up into a ponytail, she checks herself in the mirror and smiles when the light makes the necklace she’s wearing almost sparkle.

_Emma opens the door to her bedroom allowing the light from the hall to filter the room and smiles when she sees Killian lift his head. His hair is flattened against his forehead, there’s a crease on his cheek from the pillows and his eyes are puffy from sleep._

_“Hey, sleepyhead.” He lets out a small grunt before dropping his head back down and she walks into the room. “You know, I had the weirdest dream.”_

_He cracks an eye open to look up at her just as she approaches the bed._

_“Aye?”_

_“Yeah, this guy comes into my apartment at like, four in the morning, and climbs into my bed, but instead of having his way with me, he just…passes out!” Putting her hands on her hips, she shakes her head in feign disappointment and he smiles. “And all night long, he keeps jerking…” Hoping onto the bed, she pushes herself up onto her knees and mimics his jerking, making Killian chuckle._

_“That is weird.”_

_She nods._

_“And he talked in his sleep.”_

_“Oh?” A smirks forms on his lips. “What did he say?”_

_Sighing, she gives a shrug, “It was completely unintelligible. But do you want to know the weirdest part?” He raises his eyebrow in question and she bites her bottom lip. “I woke up with this necklace—” She reaches up to show him the charm. “—around my neck that I’ve never seen before.”_

_It’s a simple, round pendant with a star cut out of the middle and N, S, E, W etched at the end of each point._

_Killian turns so that he’s facing her fully and scratches at his scruff. “Would explain the small box in my trousers…Do you like it?”_

_He’s staring up at her with his eyes filled with hesitance and she can’t help but lean down and press her lips to his. There’s a hum before she feels him place his hand on her cheek._

_“I love it,” she breathes against his lips. “Thank you.”_

The chain is long enough that it hides between her breasts, but she finds herself taking it out at least once a day to rub the charm between her fingers.

“Ready to go?”

Killian’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts as he pokes his head through the door. Giving him a small smile, she nods and they walk out of her apartment. It’s still early, but they make sure to keep their steps quiet and don’t speak until they are outside.

“It should be a crime against nature to be up this early,” she murmurs while stuffing her hands into her hoodie pockets.

There’s a chuckle before Killian wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her close.

“Now, Swan, what are you going to do when I finally get to take you out on the waves? There is no sight like the sun coming up over the horizon, but how are you to appreciate it if you’re groaning about how early it is?”

For weeks he’s been talking about them taking a little vacation before it gets too cold. He hasn’t been out on the water since he moved to Storybrooke, and every time they go down to the docks she can tell how much he’s itching to take a boat out. Though, whenever they’ve tried to plan something, she either gets a case or he’s had to work at the shop over the weekend.

_“Having a job is overrated,” she groans to him on the phone one night while she’s away._

_“Aye,” she can practically hear his smile, “perhaps we can turn pirate, sail the seas pillaging and plundering every port we cross.”_

_“Oh! Can I be captain?”_

_He chuckles, “As you wish, Captain Swan.”_

“That’s easy,” she smiles up at him, “we just won’t go to bed the night before.”

“And how is that different?”

She scoffs and lightly slaps his stomach. “Everyone knows that when you don’t go to sleep it’s still _late,_ not _early._ ”

“Ah,” he nods with a small grin. “My mistake.”

Granny’s is busier than she thought it would be and her nose wrinkles at how loud it is.

“I don’t trust anyone that’s cheery this early. That’s the devil's work.”

Killian laughs with a shake of his head. “Darling, not everyone is as against the morning as you are.”

“They should be.”

He takes over ordering after she narrows her eyes at the waitress’ upbeat attitude. It’s not that she means to be rude, but they had a late night last night and the lack of sleep and caffeine is fogging her brain.

“I told you we should have gone to sleep earlier last night,” he bumps his shoulder with hers as he pushes a small cup of coffee to her while they wait.

“I don’t remember that.”

His lips press together before he leans in to whisper, “It was right around the time you suggested we take a bath.”

“I do remember _that_ ,” she whispers, brushing her nose against his cheek. “You were very dirty.”

“And somehow came out of that bath even dirtier.”

She giggles when he pokes her side before hiding her face in his shoulder. No matter what, he’s the only person that’s able to make her smile so early in the morning and it makes her heart race. Things between them have been heaven; he makes her happier than she ever thought possible, and though there are times she still struggles with her walls, he’s always there to remind her why she doesn’t need them.

_It’s two weeks after they’ve patched things up when Emma has a minor freak out. Her day has been complete shit; she tripped at the park, dropping her camera and cracking the lens, Mary Margaret has been texting her nonstop about a spa day that she doesn’t want to do, and to top it off, Isaac bumped into her, dumping his entire milkshake down the front of her shirt._

_All she wants to do is go home, take a warm bath, and let everything else just fade away, but when she walks into her apartment, she finds Killian in her kitchen. Trying to hold back her irritation—it’s not that she’s not happy to see him, she just really wanted some alone time—she gives a muted hello._

_“Swan!” His face lights up before he rushes forward to pull her to him._

_The feel of her shirt sticking to her skin makes her grimace and she pulls back. When his brow furrows, she motions to the front of her. “I’m covered in milkshake.”_

_He gives a slight pout, his hands running up and down her arms._

_“What happened?”_

_There’s another beep from her phone and she shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”_

_Killian attempts to pull her back in and she puts her hands up._

_“Seriously, my shirt is sticking to my skin, it’s not comfortable.”_

_“Alright,” he mumbles before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I take it your day hasn’t gotten any better?”_

_Placing her phone and bag on the island, she snorts, “Not in the slightest.”_

_She feels him approach her from behind, his hands going to her hips and her jaw clenches. Did she not just tell him that she didn’t want to be touched? Hoping he’ll get the hint, she steps away again and motions to the stove._

_“What’s all this?”_

_His cheeks flush as he reaches up to scratch at the back of his ear. “I was hoping to have this ready before you were home…” When she raises her eyebrow, he motions to the stove. “I thought perhaps a cooked meal might make you feel better after a trying day.”_

_She stares blankly at the food, it’s her favorite—chicken soup and grilled cheese—but the sight of it doesn’t make her feel better, if anything, it makes her feel worse._

_“I can draw you a bath—” Her phone beeps again. “—and bring your food in with a glass of rum when you’re ready.”_

_Her heart starts to pound in her chest and she tries to control her breathing. She’s had shitty days before and the way she usually gets over them is by binge watching Netflix with a nice bottle of rum. What she’s not used to is someone trying to do everything in their power to help her feel better, and it’s just…too much._

_Taking a deep breath, she shakes her head. It’s not his fault that she’s broken, that the mere thought of someone attempting to do something nice for her brings back the overwhelming feeling of wanting to run._

_“No,” she mumbles, “I can just take a quick shower, then we can eat.”_

_“I don’t mind, I know how you cherish your—” His hands go to her shoulders and it all bubbles over._

_“Will you just_ stop _?!” She growls and whips around. “Stop with the cooking, stop with the touching...just stop! I don’t need you coming here trying fix everything, alright? I can do that on my own! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to call and tell Robin I have to postpone the little league team photos until I can get a new lens.”_

_Storming off to her room, she slams the door behind her and runs her hands through her hair, the frustrations of the day making her entire body shake. Ever since she was a little girl, whenever she had a bad day, she always dealt with it on her own because that’s all she knew. Even Ruth and David knew to just leave her alone, and eventually she would be back to normal, but Killian…_

_Bracing her hands on her dresser, she takes a deep breath._

_She can’t blame him for wanting to help—whenever she’s seen him in distress, she’s done everything in her power to make it better—but it’s all just too much. They’ve only just started being truthful with each other, so it’s still hard to remember that she has someone that_ wants _to help._

_Guilt washes over her as the hurt look on his face flashes through her mind. It was quick, if anyone else had been around they most likely wouldn’t have seen it because he masked it quickly, but Emma did, and it was there because of her._

_She wants to apologize, to run out to him and explain that she didn’t mean to freak out on him, that it’s better if she’s just left alone when things like this happen, but she doesn’t move, embarrassment keeping her from leaving the room. She acted like a real bitch, and it’s probably only a matter of time before he decides that it’s not worth—_

_There’s a light knock on her door that makes her jump. Biting her bottom lip, she hesitates for half a second before cracking it open to find Killian standing there with her cell phone held up in front of him._

Damn.

_“Thanks,” she mumbles, her cheeks heating up as she reaches for it._

_He gives a slight nod, and she opens the door fully before walking back over to her bed. A moment passes before she lets out a sigh and turns back to him._

_She watches as she shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and leans against the doorframe, knowing him well enough that he won’t say anything until she does._

_“I had a bad day,” she finally says, flinching at her own words._

_Instead of responding, he gives a slight nod and it makes her nervous. If she’s honest, she didn’t expect him to come for her, but there he was, surprising her again._

_Taking a deep breath, she presses her lips together before starting again, “What I meant to say was—”_

_“You can run, Emma,” he cuts her off. “But just know, I’ll always come after you when you do.”_

It wasn’t the first time she snapped at him, nor was it the last. Though now he usually pulls her close and kisses her face until she’s a giggling mess and she forgets all about what had her in a sour mood.

They don’t have to wait long for their order and Emma pays while Killian attempts to carry a box of pastries and six coffee’s himself.

Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head and grabs half for her to carry. “Why do you think you can carry all of this by yourself?”

“I would have gotten it.”

“Has your head grown so big it has a platform now, because that’s the only way you’d be able to carry all of this.”

His eyebrow quirks up and he walks backwards with a grin. “I didn’t hear you complaining about my big head last night.”

She kicks at him even though there’s a smile on her face and her cheeks tint. The halls are still empty by the time they make it back to their building and Killian helps her with everything before placing his hand on the small of her back.

“I’ll see you in a bit, love,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose.

Giving a slight nod, she watches as he backs away and heads down the stairs, bypassing his apartment and going out the front door. It’s strange, she’s going to see him in just a few moments, but she already misses him, though she understands why he has to go back out to climb up to his balcony—they have to keep up the appearance that he spent the night at home.

After her so called _date_ , they stayed up all night talking—in between the sex—about _everything_. She told him about what it felt like when Ruth asked her if it would be okay if she started the adoption process, and he told her about the guilt he still feels over not getting home sooner to prevent Liam from being caught in the fire years before. They talked about their feelings, along with all the things they should have discussed when everything between them started, and decided they would still keep them being together a secret.

_“I think we should still keep this between us,” he whispers into her hair and she goes stiff._

_Lifting her head, she tries to calm her racing heart and ease the fear rising in her._

_“What?”_

_“Here me out, love,” he sits up with her, his hand held out as she holds the sheet to cover her bare chest and tries to overcome her urge to run, “I was just thinking back on what you said, about how they will all jump into it with their comments and opinions and…you’re right. The second they find out, the lot of them will be cornering us with questions. Not to mention, I’d like to stay alive for a few more years at least.” Her brows furrow in confusion and he chuckles, “Swan, if you don’t think for one second your brother and mine will run me through with a sword when they find out, you’re out of your beautiful mind.”_

_She tries not to smile, but her lips tug up and she shakes her head. “I’m not a little girl, David will have to get over it and as for your brother...we’re friends, he has no—”_

_“Just the other day Liam referred to you as our little sister. I nearly choked on my damn meal.” There’s a small chuckle that passes her lips, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes as he ducks his head to meet her gaze. “I’d like to try this for real this time—just us, with no interference...if that’s alright with you.”_

_Her lips twitch and she mumbles, “No walls...no secrets?”_

_“Aye,” he answers with a smile before he shrugs, “We’ll tell them when we’re ready.”_

Now it’s the middle of September and things between them are better than she could have ever dreamed. They—she—are no longer holding things back from one another; they’re just being themselves and it’s honestly the happiest she’s been in a long time.

Emma turns just as the door to her brother’s apartment opens and she gives a nod to Mary Margaret. “Morning.”

She’s rewarded with a bright smile, followed by a cheery voice, “Morning—oh! Croissants, yum.”

“Where’s David?”

There’s a pause before Mary Margaret says from over her shoulder, “He wasn’t feeling too well last night, I told him to sleep in to get the extra rest so he doesn’t have to call out of work.”

Emma’s eyes narrow and she tilts her head at the obvious lie.

Her sister-in-law’s tell is very noticeable, anyone with eyes could tell that when the raven haired beauty started to move around quickly while attempting a subject change— _”Do you know if these croissants were made fresh?” “Aren’t they always?” “Just wondering, you never know with Granny.”_ —she was trying to hide something.

“Oh,” Mary Margaret gasps as Emma takes a seat at the bottom of the stairs. “What do you think of my new dress? I got it on sale last week.”

Emma gives a small smile, “You look beautiful, Mar.”

She beams and Emma thinks if she squints and turns her head just right, she might actually see rays of sun coming from her skin before turning back to the counter where the breakfast is laid out.

No matter what time of the day or night, her sister-in-law always looks amazing; there’s never a hair out of place, her makeup is never smeared or uneven, and the sun dresses she tends to wear are always light in color. Mary Margaret is a real-life Disney princess, while the shirt Emma’s wearing has a grease stain from when she dropped a dumpling on it the night before.

Her appearance has never really been a concern for her. She has always been the type of girl that prefers to be comfortable, no matter what other people thought—Walsh once suggested she wear heels more and she told him _he_ should wear heels more, he didn’t like that—though she’s starting to think that maybe she _should_ be more like Mary Margaret.

That maybe she should put a little more effort into how she looks since she’s with someone. It wouldn’t kill her to wear something other than jeans every once in a while. She knows Killian would never tell her what to wear, but now that she knows how his ex used to dress, she wonders if she should probably rethink her clothing choices.

One girl’s night a couple weeks back, the subject of Milah came up, and after two bottles of wine—and twenty minutes of Facebook searching—Mary Margaret was able to find a picture of the woman that broke Killian’s heart. Emma wishes she could say that she was hideous, that from the one picture alone she could tell what a horrible woman she was, even if she didn’t know about what she did to Killian, but she can’t.

Milah Stiltskin was beautiful with her dark hair and just barely tanned skin. The dress she had on in the picture probably cost more than Emma’s entire wardrobe, and her smile was almost breathtaking. It was easy to see why Killian fell for her. Though, knowing how the older woman treated the men in her life _did_ take away some of her attractiveness.

_Some._

A door opens from below, and she hears Killian before she sees him. Maybe she should have jumped in the shower before they left to get breakfast for everyone, gotten dressed in more than just a t-shirt and his hoodie because—

Killian steps up onto the landing and the second his eyes connect with hers, his entire face lights up— _How is it that he manages to look so happy at seeing her when they were together not ten minutes ago?—_ before his brow furrows. He tilts his head in a silent question and Emma bites her lip to hide her smile, embarrassment washing over her from the ridiculous thoughts that were just floating through her head.

Waving to Belle, Emma waits until Killian grabs his coffee before she moves over, giving him enough room to sit down next to her.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” He whispers while Mary Margaret lies to Liam and Belle about David’s whereabouts.

Despite the heat that rises to her cheeks, her eyes roll and she mumbles, “You’re a crazy person.”

“I prefer dashing rapscallion,” he answers with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and when she tilts her head, he smirks. “Scoundrel?”

She bumps her knee against his and takes another sip from her coffee. Honestly, it’s a wonder that the others haven’t caught onto them yet, because even though they haven’t been completely blatant with their affections, they’ve definitely stopped worrying about any distance between them while being around everyone else. Whether it’s him leaning against a counter with her all but resting against him, or them sitting together with their thighs touching, they are _always_ connected.

But their family is completely unaware, and the reason Emma knows this is because of the beautiful princess standing before them. If Mary Margaret thought for even a _second_ there was something going on between her and Killian, there would be shrieks and Emma would be ambushed with questions about what it means and demands for every single detail.

Mary Margaret has never been one for subtle.

“Anyway, the reason I asked you guys to meet this morning is because Storybrooke Elementary is throwing its annual ‘Back to School’ carnival this weekend—”

“No!” Emma gasps in horror the same time Liam groans, “Bloody hell.”

“—and I’m putting all your names down for volunteers,” Mary Margaret finishes with a smile.

“What’s that now?” Killian asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you tell us about this?” Emma almost growls.

Belle tilts her head with her brow furrowed as Liam hands her a coffee. “Am I missing something? I thought we all knew…?”

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “They did, you guys are just being over dramatic. Now, Killian, Gus always volunteers for the fondue table, so he won’t be opening the shop—”

Emma’s head snaps over to Killian. “Did you _know_ about this?”

His eyes widen and he shrugs, “Gus spoke of something at the school, but I didn’t know what it was about.”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes before she starts going off again about the carnival. It’s then Emma realizes why her brother isn’t out in the hall. David hasn’t volunteered at the carnival since a fifth grader threw up on him after eating too much cotton candy. The first year he bailed, it was so Graham could volunteer, and he took the shift at the station. The second year, Emma started to get suspicious when he said he couldn’t get off due to Graham leaving, and Liam was known to wiser. But this year…

Her gaze moves over to Liam to find him already looking at her. With his arms crossed over his chest, they start to have their private conversation while Mary Margaret and Belle talk about the carnival. Emma knew Mary Margaret was lying, now she knows why.

David is trying to get out of volunteering again.

“They are asking all the volunteers to come by Friday after school lets out so we can go over everyone’s stations and responsibilities, then everyone is expected back at the school at eight on Saturday.”

Killian’s thumb brushes against her knee just as she nearly chokes on her coffee.

“Eight in the morning?!”

“Yes,” Mary Margaret smiles and Emma’s face goes hard.

Moving her gaze back to Liam, she raises her eyebrow and he gives a tight nod in response.

Killian leans in and she looks to him as he whispers, “What are you two up to?”

Waving him off, her eyes shoot over to the Nolan’s door before moving back to Liam, making him square his shoulders in preparation.

“Where’s David?” Liam asks, his voice masked in innocence.

Mary Margaret blinks, the smile on her face turning somewhat strained. “I told you, he’s not feeling very—” Emma quickly moves forward, pulling Mary Margaret away from her door just in time for Liam to charge through it. “—Liam, no! David, they’re coming!”

She rushes inside behind Liam, halting next to him when they find David sitting at his dining room table, newspaper opened and a coffee mug held up to his lips.

Everything goes silent for a moment, the last three filing into the apartment behind them before Emma growls, “GET HIM!”

David pushes himself up so fast, the chair falls to the ground as Liam runs to the left and Emma runs to the right. With nowhere to go, he attempts to back up, but quickly trips over the fallen chair and right into Liam.

Liam pulls him down into a headlock with a growl, “You knew!”

“I…ah!...I didn’t!”

Emma smacks him twice in the arm.

“Liar!”

“Emma, this carnival is _once_ a year!” Mary Margaret cries from behind them. “And Liam, you said before you would help!”

“If you think you’re getting out of this again, I’ll bloody keelhaul you!”

“I’m the Sheriff, I have to—”

“No!” Emma yells, throwing a light jab to his stomach as he tries to break free from Liam’s hold. “You used that excuse last year. If we have to go, so do you!”

“I’m sorry,” Belle interrupts, “but I’m not quite sure what is happening...I do the carnival every year and find it to be a lovely time.”

Emma clenches her teeth and hisses, “That’s because _you_ aren’t forced to sit in the kissing booth!”

“ _Kissing_ booth?!” Killian balks.

“It’s quite adorable,” Belle says with a smile. “All the boys will line up just to get a kiss on the cheek from Emma, some of the men around town, too.”

He turns to her with wide eyes and she grimaces before giving a small shake of her head to tell him she _won’t_ be doing it again.

“There won’t be a kissing booth this year!” Mary Margaret says with a large smile. “So, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh, no,” Belle gasps. “How come?”

“There was an...incident,” Mary Margaret murmurs softly.

“ _Incident_?!” Emma shrieks. “I went to kiss Isaac on the cheek and he grabbed my face and broke the damn booth when I tried to get away!”

David finally pulls free and swats at Liam’s hands. “ _Liam_ was the one that broke the booth, not Isaac!”

“He tried to force himself upon her! Wanker deserved it,” Liam grumbles before pointing to him, “And I had to sit in your bloody cell for three hours because of that little weasel!”

“Me too!” Emma adds.

David holds up his hand, “To be fair, Emma, you _did_ break his nose and, Liam, you tackled him _through_ the booth. He was going to press charges if I didn’t do _something_.”

“Apologies,” Killian steps forward. “Brother, you were arrested?”

Belle giggles while Liam gives a shrug in embarrassment, his hand moving to rub at the back of his neck.

“Just the one time…”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and huffs, “I would hardly call it an arrest. They spent the entire time drinking a bottle of whiskey Leroy dropped off to them for being his ‘hero’.” Emma and Liam both snicker. “You two are lucky I was able to convince Principal Triton to let you be volunteers again!”

Liam scoffs as Emma whines, “Seriously? You couldn’t just let us _not_ volunteer? You let David do it every year!”

“Because of my job!” David protests and Emma rolls her eyes.

“You’re doing it,” Liam growls while attempting to grab him again but his hands get swatted away. “The whole bloody town goes, there’s no reason for you to hide out at the station!”

“There is actually,” David starts with his hand held up. “The reason is—”

He stops abruptly, pushing Liam aside and running for the front door. Mary Margaret and Belle both squeal while rushing to get out of the way, but Killian steps forward and grabs him by the shoulders.

“Really?” David growls.

“Kill him!” Emma yells as her and Liam run up.

Killian shrugs, “If the lady insists.”

“Whose side are you on?” David grumbles while Liam helps to hold him.

“So goes the blonde, so goes my nation, mate,” Killian answers with another shrug, making Emma blush.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret gasps. “That’s your brother!”

“And that’s _your_ husband who doesn’t help with the carnival! You should be with us!”

There’s a silent pause as everyone stares at the brunette. It’s slow, only Emma and David can see it, but Mary Margaret’s resolve begins to slip.

“They are right, hun,” Mary Margaret insists. “The whole town shows up, and the only smart place for you to be is there…”

“Son of a…” David trails off before he shoves Liam and Killian away with a huff, “Fine!” Mary Margaret beams while he turns to point Emma. “But anything happens _this_ time, I’m arresting you both for real.”

“Again,” Killian starts, “Liam you were _arrested_?”

“Oh, wait,” Belle points to them with a smile, “Is that the time you gave Emma a piggy back ride out of the station?”

“They were both drunk off their asses,” David explains while moving back to the table. “And I refused to let them in my truck because they kept calling me ‘Sheriff Rottingham’.”

“Which lead to Emma pretending to be Robin Hood with Liam being her noble steed,” Mary Margaret finishes as she picks up the fallen chair.

Emma pats Liam on the back with a smile. “You did make a good horse.”

Killian’s eyes sparkle with amusement as Belle giggles.

“Your chariot awaits, milady,” Liam offers with a bow before turning his back to her.

Giving Killian a smirk, she hops up onto Liam’s back, wrapping one arm around his neck while holding the other out in front of them.

“Away we go!”

Liam gallops them out of apartment with the sound of everyone’s laughter in their wake.

* * *

As it turns out, the Carnival isn’t _so_ bad.

Instead of being in charge of a table or booth, Principal Triton asks Emma to help the yearbook staff with pictures, and she’s all too willing to offer her services. Especially since David gets stuck at the cotton candy booth.

_Serves him right for trying to get out of it for the third year in a row._

Mary Margaret takes charge of the target practice like she does every year—she’s scarily accurate when it comes to shooting bows—while Belle works at the face painting table, but her favorite has to be Liam and Killian.

For the first half of the day, they both worked at one of the games, then when it hit noon, Killian was whisked away to be put in the dunk tank while Liam handed people the baseballs they were to use when throwing.

She actually got a really good shot of the brother’s laughing right before Killian climbed into the tank.

But as she makes her third round of the carnival, she’s confused when she finds Killian sitting above the water, his white t-shirt still dry and his face bright with laughter. Waiting off to the side, she takes a couple shots of some girls attempting to hit the target before walking up to Belle with a smile on her face.

“He hasn’t been dunked yet?”

Belle shakes her head with a giggle, “No. The boys are refusing to try since all the girls _want_ to see Killian get dunked, and the ones that have tried didn’t hit the target.”

“Ah, good shot, lass!”

“It also doesn’t help that instead of heckling, he’s giving words of encouragement,” she adds and Emma rolls her eyes.

She told Mary Margaret that having Killian in the dunk was a bad idea. The whole point of a dunk tank is for the person to piss people off enough that they _want_ to dunk them, but he’s too much of a gentleman to heckle anyone, let alone young teenage girls.

“Here,” Emma hands Belle her camera, “Hold this.”

Making her way to the front of the line, she waits until the girl in front of her tries and misses— _”Bloody close that was, darling. I’ll have to watch out for you.”_ —before stepping up.

“What do we have here?” Liam asks with a smile.

Killian looks up, and she almost laughs at the way his face drops ever so slightly before he masks it with a closed-mouth grin.

“Mind if I take a shot?”

The girls behind her start to cheer as Liam places a ball in her hand.

“Careful, lass,” his voice is low, “A few have gotten close, and I’ve seen him hold onto the latch.”

“Really?”

Liam gives a shrug before she walks up to the tank.

“Wishing to see me wet, love? You know all you need do is ask,” Killian says quietly.

Shaking her head, she leans in, whispering. “You better not cheat and hold onto that latch.”

“Now, Swan, what type of man do you take me for?” She arches a brow and he chuckles before raising his hands—the black hair tie he stole from her room two weeks prior still on his wrist—to show her they are nowhere near the latch. “You have my word.”

“Mhm,” she mumbles. “Don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for a second.”

“I would despair if you did.”

Moving back, she makes sure she’s behind the line while fitting the ball until it’s comfortable between her fingers.

With a smirk, Killian folds his arm across his chest and calls out, “You think you have what it takes, Swan?”

Giving him a sweet smile, she winds her arm up and throws the ball at the target, making it purposely go wide. There’s a chorus of disappointed sounds that ring out behind her as Killian shrugs.

“Strike one, sweetheart.” He pokes his tongue out to lick his bottom lip, raising his eyebrow.

Liam hands her another ball and mumbles, “Want me to hit it for you?”

“No,” she answers with a small laugh. “Thanks, though.”

He gives her a wink before stepping back. Tossing the ball up into the air, she tilts her head to Killian.

“You know, I’m going to get you in that water, right?”

Killian bites his bottom lip, “I have no doubt.”

On her next throw, the ball slips from her fingers a hair of a second too soon, and she curses under her breath when it misses. Shaking her arm, she accepts the last ball from Liam with a hard look on her face.

“Did you miss that on purpose?” He asks.

She snorts, “The first one, yes, but that one I fucked up.”

Liam chuckles and she squares her shoulders.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about missing, Emma,” Killian grins, “We all know how distracting I can be.”

The girls behind her giggle and she rolls her eyes, her determination to knock him down growing stronger. Turning to the side, she looks to Killian and motions a kiss. Just as his eyes widen, she pulls her arm back and throws.

With a loud thwack, the ball hits its target and Killian falls to the water with a splash. There’s a mixture of cheers along with a few groans as he resurfaces with a gasp. She watches as he whips his head back and forth before wiping the water from his face.

Giggling, she gives him a shrug before turning to the crowd, “Enjoy ladies.”

* * *

“Thank _god_ ,” David groans as he puts the plastic bin on top of the table. “I don’t remember the carnival lasting this long last year.”

Emma snorts as she looks through the photos on her camera, deleting ones that are too blurry or out of focus.

“That’s because you spent the entire time at the station watching daytime TV—have you told your wife about your soap opera obsession yet?”

“Shh!” David hisses, his eyes moving frantically over to the door leading into the gym. “Yes, she knows.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“You’re right, she doesn’t,” he answers quickly, “and don’t you dare tell her.”

Emma shakes her head and looks back down at the camera. The next picture is one she took of Killian and it makes her smile. He’s leaning against the edge of the dunk tank, his wet hair pushed back away from his face and the smile she loves spread across his face.

“That’s a good picture.”

She jumps at David’s voice and turns to find him looking over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, her gaze moving back to the camera with a smile. “I like it.”

David moves back to the table, packing up the unused cones and she bites her lip. For some reason, she gets the overwhelming feeling to tell David about what is happening between her and Killian. It wouldn’t be too hard, they were alone in the gym, she could tell him and everything would be okay.

Pushing herself up from her chair, she moves to stand next to him and says, “Hey, there’s someth—”

“Where am I supposed to put this?”

They both turn to see Leroy stomping into the gym with the flag pole thrown over his shoulder like some sort of pickaxe and a scowl on his face.

Letting out a sigh, Emma takes a step back as David tells him to take it to the storage room off to the side.

“What were you going to say?”

Her eyes flicker over to where Leroy disappears to, the confidence she felt moments before suddenly gone, and she forces a smile.

“There’s some more cones in the box, I’ll get them.”

She doesn’t miss the head tilt David gives her as she moves to the box, but chooses to ignore it and helps him pack up. There’s a few bangs from the other room, followed by Leroy’s curses before David eventually huffs.

“Let me go help him before he trashes the storage room.”

Chuckling, she gives him a nod as he pats her arm before walking away. Her heart starts to pound in her chest and she looks down at her camera, the picture of Killian still on the screen. It really is a great picture. He looks so carefree and happy and—

“Killian and I are together.”

She waits a beat before looking up to find that, though he has stopped walking, he still hasn’t turned back to her. There are butterflies in her stomach and her first instinct is to run home and pray that he’ll not mention it, but she pushes through it and stands still.

“We have been for a while now,” she continues, her voice wavering slightly, and he finally turns to her. “We, uh, we didn’t tell anyone at first because we weren’t exactly sure _what_ was happening between us...then we figured it out and, uh, we just...we didn’t want anyone to make a big deal about it, and now I’m telling you.”

David places his hands on his hips, his face unreadable. The fluttering in her stomach quickens, and she has to remind herself that this is her _brother,_ not her father, because the way he’s looking at her makes her feel like a little girl asking to go on a date for the first time.

After a few moments, she finally mumbles, “Are you going to say anything?”

“Did he not have the guts to come do this with you?”

“What? No!” She gasps, moving forward. “He doesn’t even know. If he did, he’d be upset.”

David’s eyes widen. “Oh, so he would be upset that you’re not keeping it a secret?”

“I didn’t say that!” She cries out, her defenses on high alert. “He wouldn’t be upset that I’m not keeping it a secret, he would be upset that he wasn’t here with me to tell you.” He eyes her and she lets out a huff, “David, you know Killian better than any of us, do you really think he would let me do this by myself if he knew?”

She watches as he presses his lips together before nodding.

“Okay, you’re right,” She lets out a sigh and he continues, “But he should be here with you, Emma.”

Leaning back against the table, she groans, “Yeah, I’m going to hear about this for a while...but it just...came out.” She relaxes a bit when he moves to stand next to her and gives a slight shrug. “I know you’re probably upset that we kept this from you—”

“I am,” he answers with a nod and she sighs, “But not as upset as you think.”

Her brow furrows. “How come?”

She watches as he leans back against the table with a slight grimace. “I guess this is the part where I tell you I already knew.” Her head whips over to him and he offers a sheepish grin. “Have for some time.”

“Wha...how?”

“Honestly?” She gives a nod and he shrugs, “It wasn’t hard to figure out, Emma. With the amount of time you two spend together, it’s the only logical explanation.”

“Liam and I spent a lot of time together before he and Belle got together.”

David rolls his eyes. “You and Liam are different. You’d spend three days hanging out, then two days not talking because you’d get on each other’s nerves.” She giggles and he lets out a chuckle. “But you and Killian? No, that’s different. Everyone knows that if he’s not at work, he’s with you.”

Smiling, she lays her head on her brother’s shoulder and closes her eyes. She spent so much time worrying about what David would think once he found out and how he would react that she never thought about how _she_ would feel once she told him. It’s like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, and though she didn’t want to share Killian, she now finds herself wanting to tell the world because she’s finally found someone.

“He said you were going to run him through with a sword when we told you.”

“Oh, I wanted to punch him a few times when I first figured it out,” he answers with a grin and she rolls her eyes. “Then I noticed how you two were and decided to stay quiet until you said something.”

Lifting her head from his shoulder, she asks, “What do you mean? How are we?”

David gives a smile, “Happy.”

She can’t help the smile on her face, because he’s right...she can’t remember the last time she was _this_ happy, and Killian’s the reason.

They both look up when the gym doors open to see everyone walking in. Mary Margaret and Liam are carrying stuffed animals while Belle holds the door and Killian rubs a towel through his hair. Moving her gaze to David, he gives her a quick smile before she pats him on the shoulder and pushes herself up from the table.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret greets with a smile. “How did the pictures—”

Ignoring her sister-in-law, Emma walks straight up to Killian and pulls him down for a kiss. His hands move to her hips and her clothes get a little wet when she presses herself against him, but she doesn’t care because she’s kissing her _boyfriend_.

Killian pulls back, a small, unsure smile on his face as his eyes move back and forth between her own.

“Hello to you, too, love,” he whispers as he brushes his nose against hers.

Giving a soft giggle, she opens her mouth to respond when she’s cut off by Mary Margaret’s high-pitched cry.

“I _knew_ it!”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. One of the chapters I think you’ve all been waiting for. I hope it you enjoy it. 
> 
> Thank you to April for her awesome job at editing this and Mandy for her awesome banner making skills.
> 
> The manip in this chapter was done by the amazing and beautiful Mia. she’s so wonderful for doing this for me. DO NOT REPOST. DO NOT TAKE OUT HER WATERMARK. Don’t be that person. ;-p
> 
> Double line breaks mean change of POV.

**Chapter Fourteen**

It’s not often that Emma wakes up before Killian—she’ll joke that he’s the one to wake up the birds—but on the rare occasion that it does happen, she likes to watch him. He looks so young, so peaceful when he’s sleeping, and the way his bottom lip pouts out is the cutest thing she’s ever seen.

Looking over to the clock on her cable box, she sees that it’s just after eight and debates whether to get up or roll over to go back to sleep. There’s a soft sigh from beside her and Killian’s arm tightens around her stomach and she smiles.

_Even in his sleep he can read her._

Deciding to get a little more sleep, she’s just about to turn and snuggle closer when her bedroom door bursts open.

“Emma! You have to get up and help—oh!” Mary Margaret stops with a gasp and brings her hand up to her mouth.

Her sister-in-law stands by the side of her bed, her eyes slightly wide and her cheeks turning pink. It was just yesterday they told everyone—well, they _confirmed_ it since it seems they already knew.

“Wow,” Mary Margaret says, shaking her head. “Sorry. I mean, I know you guys told us, and that we sort of already knew, but it’s different actually _seeing_ it,” she rambles on quickly before stepping forward and adding with a whisper, “You _never_ let anyone sleep over!”

Rolling her eyes, Emma mouths ‘ _boyfriend_ ’ before motioning to the door. She waits until Mary Margaret leaves the room to get out of the bed, slowly as to not wake the sleeping man beside her, and quickly grabs the first thing she finds on the floor—Killian’s t-shirt—and throws it on before walking out.

Her sister-in-law is practically _vibrating_ with excitement in her living room and she can’t help but chuckle.

“What can I do for you, Mar?”

“Do you know how adorable you two are?” She practically squeals. “That has to be the cutest thing I have _ever_ seen—oh my god, Emma, I’m so happy for you!”

“It’s not—” Mary Margaret wraps her arms around her. “—oh, okay, this a hugging moment?”

The raven haired beauty giggles and pulls back with a large smile on her face.

“Tell me _everything_! Your brother and I talked about it all night last night.” Emma raises her brows and Mary Margaret rolls her eyes, “Okay, I talked and he threw me death glares, but I _need_ to know.”

Shaking her head, she takes a step back. “It’s not even nine yet.” When she opens her mouth to argue, Emma groans, “I _promise_ to tell you if you just let it go until later.”

There’s a struggle that’s clear in Mary Margaret’s eyes, but when her shoulders sag Emma knows she’s won the battle—

“Fine. I’ll let it go until tonight when we all have dinner.”

—but not the war.

Giving her a nod, Emma scratches the top of her head before crossing her arms over her chest.

“So, what’s up?”

Mary Margaret shoves an iPad in her face and she’s asked which drapes would go with the new sheets she bought for their spare bedroom.

“Um…”

Her sister-in-law rambles on for twenty minutes before she makes her decision and by the time she’s skipping out the front door, Emma feels more tired than she did before.

_David and I need to have a serious discussion about her caffeine intake._

Going back to her room, a small smile appears on her face when she finds Killian still sleeping. He’s lying on his stomach, his face turned to her with his arms stuffed under the pillow. Picking up her phone from the side table, she takes a quick picture before climbing back into bed. As soon as she lays down, Killian’s left arm lifts to wrap around her as he moves to push his face into her neck.

“Does she always talk so bloody much in the morning?” He mumbles, making her giggle.

“I warned you that she bursts in unannounced, and careful, you’re starting to sound like me now.”

He gives a grunt, his arm tightening around her as she unlocks her phone. Before they went to bed last night, she uploaded a picture she took of her and Killian the week prior—

_“Making another public announcement, love?”_

_The burn on her cheeks makes her eyes lower and she gives a shrug. “I like this picture, you don’t mind, do you?”_

_Raising an eyebrow, he takes her phone and she watches as he hits submit on the upload before tossing it to the side and attacking her with kisses._

—He’s holding her chin with his thumb, their lips are inches apart and there’s a large smile on her face while he stares at her lips.

It’s beautiful and her favorite, and not for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, she finds herself chuckling because instead of comments filled with surprise, she’s assaulted with comments of what seem to be relief.

**_‘Jasmine commented: It’s about time!’_ **

**_‘Red commented: Finally!’_ **

**_‘Dorothy commented: Hey, those clothes look familiar. ;)’_ **

Her cheeks tint at Dorothy’s comment, the memory of _why_ her friend would remember such a thing fresh in her mind.

_Emma’s eyes close as she tilts her head back and tries to control her breathing._

_“You’re in rare form today.” It comes out huskier than she intends, but with the way Killian is sucking on her collarbone, she’s lucky she’s even able to form words._

_After getting back from her latest case, she texted Killian before going into her dark room to develop her pictures to put in her file. She was there no more than ten minutes before he came crashing through, pinning her against the desk and kissing her without so much as a hello._

_He simply grunts his answer, his arms tightening around her waist as he pushes her harder against the desk. Something falls to the ground with a loud thump and she almost turns to look, but then he flicks his tongue over her pulse and she moans._

_There’s a bead of sweat that trickles down the back of her neck and she suddenly wishes she had the fan on high. A small squeak passes her lips as he lifts her and she drops down onto the desk with a giggle._

_“What are you doing?”_

_The upturn of his lips and the flick of his tongue makes her shiver and her heart slams against her chest as she watches him drop to his knees. He has her tights off before she can blink and his lips are running slowly up her leg, his scruff scratching her in the most delicious way as he places his hands on her knees to push them open._

_“I missed you,” he breathes against her skin._

_Fingers tightening on the edge of the desk, she murmurs, “I missed you, too.”_

_She groans as he lightly bites her inner thigh before his tongue pokes out to lick the same spot. Oral sex was never a top priority, one-night stands were more for scratching an itch as quickly as possible, and for the times that she was actually dating someone, there were only a handful that knew what they were doing while the others claimed they didn’t like it._

_But Killian? Oh, he_ loves _it._

_More times than she can count, his head is in between her legs—and it’s not something she’ll ever complain about._

_Her phone starts to ring, the sound making her jump and she lifts her head._

_“My..._ fuck _…I should get that...”_

_Killian doesn’t make a sound or stop, he simply reaches for her phone and drops it into her lap. Her eyes are rolling into the back of her head, his lips doing wonderful, devious things to her thigh, as she fumbles to answer it._

_“H-hello?”_

_“Hey, Em,” Dorothy’s voice fills her ears. “Just making sure…”_

_She doesn’t hear the rest of what Dorothy says because it’s then that Killian decides to push his nose against her mound, breathing in deep with a low moan._

_“Emma…are you okay?”_

_Softly cursing, she licks her lips and nods, “Yeah, sorry, I, uh, I stubbed my toe.”_

_A soft puff of air crosses her thigh at Killian’s scoffing chuckle and if she wasn’t so concentrated on keeping her voice straight, she’d throw him a glare._

_“Okay…” Dorothy’s voice draws out. “Is it still alright that I come by and pick up those pictures from the Hay Festival? You said they were in your dark room, right?” Her eyes fly open. “I’m about to walk in.”_

_Pushing Killian away, she ignores his disgruntled look and hops down off the desk to quickly pull up her underwear—when did he pull them down?—just as the door handle starts to jiggle._

_“I’m here!”_

_There’s a small crash of something as Killian ducks behind her rolling cart and she reaches the door just as it opens._

_“Hey,” she breathes out, catching it before it could open fully._

_Dorothy’s eyebrow raises, her own phone still held up to her ear, a look of pure confusion forming on her face._

_“I thought you were still gone.”_

_Emma gives a nervous chuckle and tucks a piece of hair away from her face._

_“Yeah, I just got back. Sorry, I completely forgot or else I would have brought them to you.”_

_She looks over her shoulder, only mildly surprised to find that Killian is completely hidden, and opens the door to let her friend inside. She attempts to act casual, but her core is still throbbing and she can still feel Killian’s scruff on her thighs._

_“Thank you for taking them,” Dorothy says with a smile. “The one’s hanging at the rec center are so outdated, they are polaroid’s.”_

_Chuckling, Emma hands her the folder and crosses her arm across her chest. “It’s no problem. I hope everyone likes them.”_

_Dorothy assures her they will and they talk for a couple more minutes, but it’s not until she turns to leave that Emma notices her tights are on floor. Before she can kick them away, Dorothy bends over to pick them up and Emma curses under her breath._

_Her friend turns back with the tights in her hands and her eyebrow raised and Emma lets out a nervous chuckle._

_“Sorry,” she snatches the tights and stuffs them into a draw. “It gets hot in here sometimes.”_

_The brunette tilts her head, staring for a moment before she nods._

_“Right. So, Ruby was saying something about all of us getting together this weekend for dinner, are you in?”_

_“Um,” Emma scratches her forehead. Mary Margaret might have mentioned something, but her brain isn’t functioning properly for her to remember. “Yeah, I’ll talk to Mar when she gets ho—”_

_The sound of something falling to the floor cuts her off and her entire body goes stiff. Silence falls between them while Dorothy brows furrow. Her heart rate speeds up and she presses her lips together in a tight grin just as her friend chuckles._

_“Well, let me know,” Dorothy says before she moves to call over Emma’s shoulder. “Bye, Killian.”_

_Emma’s face scrunches up in embarrassment and there are few shuffles from behind her, followed by Killian answering with, “Cheers, lass.”_

_Her cheeks burn as her friend giggles and gives a wink before walking out._

“What’s so funny, love?”

When he cracks open an eye, she shows him her phone and watches as the corner of his lips tug up. “Hmm,” he drops his head back onto her shoulder. “Seems, despite your exhaustive efforts to keep your feelings unknown, everyone was already aware that you were hopelessly attracted to me.”

Her mouth falls open, and when she looks down at him she sees him trying his best to hide his smirk. Reaching behind her, she pulls out her pillow and hits him upside the head. His eyes snap open and the look on his face makes her giggle.

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have done that.”

She lets out a yelp in surprise when he pounces on her before her giggles fill the room.

“Stop! Ah!”

He’s tickling her sides and laughing as she tries to free herself, but every time she’s close to getting away, his arms wrap around her and she’s pulled back for another assault.

“Admit it!”

“Ne—ah!” She giggles and kicks her legs out. “Never!”

Smacking his hands away, she eventually gets the upper hand and is able to flip them and pin him down onto the bed. His eyes are bright with laughter and his cheeks are creasing from how wide his smile is…

_He looks beautiful._

Falling down onto his chest, she giggles and shakes her head, “You and I both know it was _you_ that couldn’t hide how attracted you were to me.”

His eyes soften, a small smile playing on his lips as he lifts his hand to brush his knuckles across the apple of her cheek.

“Aye, love,” he whispers, his gaze flickering to her lips before moving back up. “Perhaps you’re right.”

He presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose before she snuggles into his chest and closes her eyes. The feel of his fingers running softly up and down her arm causes goosebumps and he pulls her closer, mistaking that her chills are from the cool air and not his touch.

She’s often wondered if the insatiable cravings she has for him will ever go away. They’ve been together for months, and she wants him just as much as she did in the beginning. They don’t have sex quite as often as they did when they first started...they once had sex _all_ night, only stopping because he had to go to work and even then he was late— _”Just once more, love.”_ She felt so bad that he had to work without any sleep, she attempted to stay up so it would be equal, but at some point, she lost her battle and fell asleep on the couch. All she remembers after that is waking up to her phone going off at about seven with a message from David asking about dinner and Killian wrapped around her, his warm breath on her neck.

But they still have sex pretty often—not that she’s complaining—and it seems to be only getting better.

When she feels his thumb brush at the base of her spine, her resolves slips. Pressing her lips to his collarbone, she kisses her way down his chest and almost giggles at the feel of his coarse hair tickling her lips.

“Emma…”

There’s a smirk she gives at the breathless way he says her name and continues her descent. She can already see the bulge forming in his boxer briefs—fuck, he really looks good wearing them—and her mouth waters. The way he reacts to her always makes her throb; it’s like the lightest touch has him wanting her just as much as she wants him.

Tracing his hip bones with her tongue, her fingers hook under the elastic seconds before he’s lifting his hips, allowing her to pull them down. His cock pops out and slaps back onto his stomach and she bites her lip. Blow jobs were never really her _thing_. She didn’t _not_ enjoy them, it’s just that she always felt they were too...intimate.

To get down on her knees and service someone would mean she would have to trust that person completely, and there’s never been anyone she’s felt that with until Killian.

That’s why whenever he’s willing—which is always, he _is_ a man—she’s all too happy to deliver.

Plus, his reactions never cease to make her feel sexy.

There’s a slight hiss when she runs her tongue up his shaft, tracing the rigid veins and making him harder, followed by a groan when she swirls it around the tip in a slow tease before she sucks him into her mouth.

“Oh, gods,” he moans, his head falling back as he gently rises his hips off the bed, and she hums, hollowing out her cheeks and closing her lips around him.

There’s something about the way he struggles to remain still, fighting against the natural urge to thrust down her throat that turns her on, because even though she’s doing something to him that is so _not_ lady like, he’s still a gentleman.

Another moan passes his lips as he chokes out a breath, “Bloody hell. You’re incredible...oh, my darling, your m-mouth…”

Pushing herself down more, her lips tighten around him as she brings her hand up to wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing lightly before moving up to circle her tongue around his tip and sucking him down until he hits the back of her throat.

There’s a cursed cry and a whimper of her name before she feels him cup the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair.

“You... _gods_...you like doing this for me, don’t you, sweetheart?” She doesn’t bother with a response, he already knows the answer. “Aye, I know you do. Your quim is always positively _soaked_ after I’ve been in that pretty mouth of yours.” She moans and his fingers tighten in her hair. “Oh, Emma, feels so bloody good when you moan around me.”

She loves how vocal he is, it lets her know he’s enjoying what she’s doing and _fuck_ does it turn her on. His voice always drops to a lower octave, more huskier, almost _dirtier_ , when they are having sex, and it drives her wild.

_Explains why their phone sex is always amazing._

“Emma,” he practically growls. “Love, I can’t hold...I want to...”

He rolls his hips up to gently meet her movements as whimpers fall from his mouth and she knows he’s close. Taking a deep breath, she moves up, her hand stroking his shaft a few times before she takes him back in, sucking down completely until he’s completely in her mouth.

“ _Fuck!”_

With his body arching off the bed, cries of pleasure echo throughout the room as he spills himself down her throat. She fights her body's natural instinct to gag and swallows his release with a soft hum, working him through his bliss.

When he falls back onto the bed, she slowly licks him clean before pressing a soft kiss to his still pulsing tip.

“Gods, that was…” He lets out a ragged breath, “amazing. You’re amazing.”

Pressing another soft kiss to his stomach, she crawls back up his body and buries her face in his neck, the feel of his still racing pulse pounding against her lips.

His hands begin to rub down her back, softly at first, before his grips her ass.

“What about you?”

A soft smile spreads across her lips—he’s always so considerate of her feelings—before she bumps her nose to his jaw.

“I’m fine…besides, you really think that would be smart right now?”

He lets out a quick breath, brows raising in the middle when he nods. “Aye, perhaps it would be best to wait until I can feel my legs again.”

Giggling lightly, she lays her head back down and sighs as he wraps his arms around her.

It’s the first time she entertains the thought that what she feels for him might possibly be love and her throat almost closes. She hasn’t even _dreamed_ about loving another person since she was seventeen years old and it scares her. They’ve only been together for a short time, there’s no way she could—

“Darling, I can practically hear you thinking,” he starts before pulling his head back to look down at her, “what’s wrong?”

Swallowing back her fear, she shakes her head and buries herself further into his neck. His fingers continue to stroke through her hair as he reaches up with his right hand to cup her face. When she finally finds the courage to look up at him, she finds his brows furrowed and his eyes full of concern.

She can’t tell him yet...not when she’s not sure.

His thumb brushes against her jaw and she whispers, “Another time.”

He doesn’t like her answer, she can tell by the way his eyes flicker back and forth between hers, but he gives a nod and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“As you wish.”

* * *

* * *

Killian waits by Emma’s door, trying to hide the smirk on his face. His Swan is fluttering around her living room like a big bundle of nervousness about ready to burst. They are about to embark on their first dinner with their loved ones openly as a couple, and were it weeks prior, her uneasiness would have made him pause, but now he finds it absolutely adorable.

“Alright there, love?”

“Hm?” He raises his eyebrow and she gives a nervous chuckle. “Oh, yeah, I’m just making sure we have everything.”

With his lips twitching, he rubs at the hair tie on his wrist—a small memento of hers he likes to keep with him—and calls out, “You are aware we are just going downstairs? If you’ve forgotten anything I could just run up here and grab it for you.”

“Have you seen my keys?” Her head whips back and forth while she pats the pockets of her jacket. “You used my car to go to the store earlier, right?”

“I did,” he nods before motioning to the hooks next to the door. “They are right here, Swan, where I always put them.” When she moves to grab them, he takes the chance to step forward and catch her wrist. “Why do you need your keys?”

Her eyes flicker back and forth between his.

“Um, so I can lock the door?”

He can’t hold back his chuckle and pulls her close. “Darling...it’s just dinner.”

“Dinner where Mary Margaret is going to hammer us with questions until our heads explode.” He opens his mouth to respond when her eyes brighten and she places her hands on his chest. “You know, we could just skip the whole thing...I could wear that red lace number I got in Seattle last week.”

A shiver runs through him as the vision of her wearing that particular set of lingerie fills his mind. She had surprised him with it, sent a picture while he was working to show it off and in return, making him hard for the rest of the day.

Her fingers brush down his chest as her eyes sparkle, and it takes everything in him to shake his head and stop her hands before they can move any further.

“Nice try,” he smirks at her pout and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “But you know as well as I do that if we were to skip out on this dinner, Mrs. Charming will have both of our heads.”

A small whimper passes her lips and he has to bite his lip. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but he must hold them back. Since the beginning, he’s vowed to let Emma set the pace of their relationship, to follow her lead…but he can’t help the fact that he’s fallen in love with her.

So, instead, he does what he always does when he wishes to speak his feelings aloud, he leans forward and presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose, loving how her lips tug up ever so slightly every time he does it.

“Come now,” he murmurs, running his hand down her arm. “It’ll all be over before we know it.”

“Fine,” she huffs and takes a step back, “but because you're _forcing_ me to go to this thing where I'll be tortured, I think it's only fair I torture you, as well.”

His eyebrow quirks up.

“Aye? And just how do you suppose you're going to do that?”

There's a smirk that pulls at the edge of her lips and then she’s standing on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I'm not wearing any underwear,” before turning and walking out the door.

His jaw drops and his eyes instantly drop to her arse, the tight yoga pants she’s wearing letting him know that she’s telling the truth.

“Perha—” He clears his throat. “—perhaps we _should_ reconsider this dinner,” he calls out. “Surely they won’t be too upset?”

Her giggle echoes in the hall but she doesn’t come back up the stairs, making him curse under his breath. He can already feel himself growing hard and tries to think of something that’ll force his body to calm down before he hears David’s voice—

“Where’s the boyfriend?”

_That’ll do it_.

Listening to the sibling’s squabble, he closes the door behind him and catches sight of his own brother coming from the hall. He watches as Liam gives a tight nod to Emma in greeting and Killian tilts his head. There’s something off with his brother and he’s not entirely sure what it is.

“You alright?”

Liam’s head snaps up, a picture of confusion washing over him before he shrugs, “Aye, why wouldn’t I be?”

Killian blinks, but before he can say anything, Liam walks off. When he looks to Belle, she gives a slight shrug, indicating she can see there is something the matter with him, as well.

“Wow,” Emma’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “We weren’t accosted as soon as we walked in, I’m impressed, Mar.”

“David made me promise to at least give you two a chance to get settled before I start asking questions,” she explains while mixing the salad together. “Which, let me tell you, is very, _very_ hard.”

Shaking his head with a light chuckle, Killian fetches two beers from the fridge and pops the caps off them. Walking over to where Emma is perched, he hands her a bottle before resting his hip against the counter between her legs while taking a sip of his own. The feel of Emma’s arms encircling him from behind makes him lightly hum as he rests his arm on her thigh.

It’s a challenge to hide the smile on his face, because even though he’s found that she likes connection while they are alone, this is the first time she’s done it while in the presence of others and it means... _everything._

“Jesus, Mary Margaret,” David huffs, making Killian look up to see the woman in question practically _vibrating_ with excitement while she stares at them. “I think you’re more excited than you were on our wedding day.”

Both he and Emma give a light laugh as Mary Margaret swats a towel at her husband.

“I’m just happy is all.”

David rolls his eyes while Belle asks if there’s anything she can help with. They are lucky enough to have a full hour without any interrogation—apart from Mary Margaret’s squeals whenever they did something she deemed cute—and are able to act like a normal couple with their friends.

But the second they go to sit down to dinner, Mary Margaret starts, “Now, how—”

“Okay,” Emma holds her hands out. “Here are the rules—”

“There are rules?” Liam cuts her off with an eyebrow raised.

Killian’s brow furrows at his brother’s tone, but refrains from saying anything.

Emma lets out a dry chuckle, “For Mary Margaret? Yes, now, we will answer questions during dinner and dinner _alone_. Once dinner is over, can we all just please go back to normal?”

There’s a flash of what looks to be annoyance that crosses Liam’s face as he looks down at his plate while David nods.

“I think we can all agree to that. Right, hun?”

Mary Margaret looks like she wants to argue, her gaze flickering back and forth between Emma and David, before she relents with a sigh.

“Fine.”

Emma finally sits—an adorably proud look on her face—and Killian pats her knee.

“But we want to hear _everything_!” Mary Margaret gushes.

David motions with his fork in the air. “Just for the record, some of us don’t want to hear _everything_.”

Liam grunts in agreement and Belle rubs his shoulder.

“How did you figure out you two liked each other? Was it a conversation? Who made the first move?”

“That—” David cuts in with a shrug, “—for instance, is one of the things I don’t want to know about.”

Killian and Emma both squirm in their seats as Mary Margaret and Belle giggle.

“Well, it really wasn’t a… _moment_ or a conversation…” Emma’s voice is wavering before she shakes her head. “Actually, let’s start by asking how you guys all knew?”

There’s a silence that falls over the group before Liam clears his throat.

“I’d like to state for the record that I _did_ not know.”

“Seriously?” Emma snorts. “How is that possible?”

Liam stares blankly and while she smirks, Killian feels uneasy. There’s a glint in his brother’s eye that he doesn’t like.

“Well,” Belle cuts in after sipping from her wine glass. “For me, it was when I caught you two at the library.”

Killian and Emma’s eyes both go wide as they share a look before Emma asks, “What were we doing?”

“Just kissing,” Belle insists before her eyes narrow. “Why? What else have you done there?”

Emma’s cheeks flush while Killian scratches the back of his ear again.

“I really owe you a punch in the face, don’t I?” David mumbles.

Killian smirks while Liam, Mary Margaret, and Emma all speak at once.

“Oi!”

“David!”

“What the hell?!”

The two friends’ eyes connect over their drinks, and David winks as Killian gives a chuckle. While he knows his mate is merely jesting—possibly—the lot around them are in the dark. He also knows that if David were serious, he would gladly stand there and allow him to strike, because there has to be some sort of rule against falling in love with your best mate’s sister.

“Wait!” Mary Margaret gasps, her head snapping over toward Belle. “We talked about this last week, you didn’t tell me you caught them kissing.”

“Really?” Emma groans around her fork. “You actually had conversations about this?”

Killian bumps his shoulder with hers and he murmurs, “Does that surprise you, love?”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips. While Belle explains why she didn’t tell Mary Margaret about the kiss, Killian leans in and presses a light kiss to Emma’s shoulder. When she turns to look at him, it’s as if everyone around them fades away and he gets lost in a sea of green. It’s times such as these that he thinks his feelings may not be so one sided, because she looks at him with such warmth and adoration…it would be impossible to fake.

_You thought that last time, mate_.

He blinks and sits back up, lightly shaking his head to rid himself of his self-doubt. Feeling the brush of her fingers against the side of his thigh, he answers with a tight-lipped grin and ignores her raised eyebrow that lets him know she’s aware of his lie.

_Damn tell._

“Well, for me it was just one thing…” Mary Margaret gushes. “I mean, I know you guys were always hanging out and stuff, but I didn’t think anything about that.”

David snorts. “You talked to me about it three weeks after he moved in.”

The clang of Emma’s fork dropping onto her plate makes Killian snort as she puts her head in her hands.

“Jesus Christ, Mar,” she huffs. “Do you have any self-control when it comes to matchmaking?”

Liam chuckles, “Lass, we love you, but you wonder why we keep our feelings for another person unspoken.”

“That is not fair!” Mary Margaret gasps while wiping her lips with a napkin. “I didn’t try matchmaking with you and Belle!”

Belle giggles. “Because you didn’t know about it.” She turns to Liam with a slight smile. “You were very much in denial, sweetie.”

A flush of pink appears on Liam’s cheeks as he shakes his head. “I was not in denial…I was merely biding my time.”

Killian watches as he takes Belle’s hand and brings it to his lips and how it makes David and Mary Margaret share a smile. Happiness floods him at the realization that he is now allowed to show affection to his love as he puts his left arm behind her chair and brushes his fingers on her shoulder. A small smile is on his face when Emma leans into him, and he can’t help but press a light kiss to her temple.

“What about you, David?” Belle asks, bringing them all back. “How did you know?”

They all look to him, but he keeps his focus on his plate. Emma told Killian of David’s response at the carnival, though he’s unsure he’ll speak of it with everyone.

“The pictures,” he finally answers. When he’s met with silence, he finally looks up and motions to them with his fork. “Before Killian, Emma never took photos _with_ us, only _of_ us. Now, I have more pictures of me and my sister now than I ever did before.”

“Yes!” Mary Margaret answers with a clap. “I love the one you guys took last week at Regina’s! David has it on his desk at work.”

Emma rolls her eyes and shoves her food around her plate. Feeling her slight embarrassment, Killian removes his arm from around her and wipes at the corner of his lips.

“I figured it would have been when she started calling me by my name,” he admits with a little chuckle. When he looks up, he’s surprised to see all the confused faces. “What?”

“She’s always called you by your name,” Belle answers, tilting her head slightly.

With a roll of his eyes, he nods, “I meant my first name.”

He’s met with silence once again, so he looks to Emma to find her cheeks tinted and a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Oh!” Mary Margaret gasps. “I know—Emma, you used to call him Jones! That was weird because she only did it when you were around, with all of us you were always Killian.”

His head snaps over to Emma, his eyes wide. For too long he wished to hear what his first name sounded like on her lips and now he finds out she had been saying it the whole time. There’s a nervous smile on her face, and he’s suddenly hit with a memory of a conversation they had not too long ago.

_“How do you mean?” He asks, his thumbs kneading the arch of her foot._

_She gives a shrug and folds her hands into her lap. “Just…things that I would do to try and trick myself into not thinking about you that way.”_

_“Like?”_

_There’s a tint to her cheeks as she bites her lip and shakes her head._

_“Another time.”_

_Pressing his lips together, he debates on allowing her this pass, but then her eyes turn pleading and he nods, his concentration moving back to her foot._

When she gives a shrug, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Is that when you two got together?” Belle asks.

“Um, actually I think…,” Emma looks to him and he raises his brow. “I think that’s something we’d like to keep between us?” He gives her a smile in agreement and she nods before turning back to everyone. “Yeah, I think we’ll keep that one to us.”

Mary Margaret opens her mouth, but she’s cut off by David placing his hand over hers and saying, “That’s fine, and I think that’s enough questions for tonight.”

“I agree,” Liam offers, his tone once again making Killian’s brows furrow.

He expected unwillingness from David, but from him? It’s true he and Emma are close, but he’s _his_ brother, he had hoped he would have been given some benefit of the doubt that he wouldn’t hurt her.

“Alright,” Mary Margaret relents. “Just really quick, though,” she sits up and folds her arms on the table in front of her, her tone going serious, “I know that we—” David coughs and she rolls her eyes. “— _I_ made a big deal about it, but it’s only because I— _we_ all love you both, and honestly, we are very happy you found each other.”

Killian’s face softens as he turns to look to Emma. She’s smiling down at her plate before her eyes connect with his and when he raises his brow and nods once, she shakes her head, her cheeks again tinting.

“Oh! And…I thought of this earlier today, do you know what the _best_ thing about you two being a couple now is?”

Killian sits back, placing his arm on the top of Emma’s chair again as she sighs.

“What is that, my darling sister-in-law?”

Mary Margaret beams as she gives a little clap. “Next month at the town Halloween ball, Emma _has_ to wear a costume because she’ll be part of a couple!”

“Ah,” Killian answers with a nod while Emma shakes her head.

“You know, you are so right, I didn’t even think of that.”

The lass goes on about how she has ideas for each of their costumes, but Killian barely hears a word, because once Emma pushes her plate away, she leans back into him and places her hand on his knee. The smell of her hair distracts him and the way her fingers circle the inside of his knee makes his jeans tighten. Suddenly, he’s reminded of what Emma told him before they came down and he has to bite back a moan.

She must feel the stiffness of his body because her head turns toward him, a small smirk painted on her lips.

_Minx_.

He’s just about to feign sleepiness so he may take her upstairs and have his way with her, when everyone stands to clear their plates.

“Who’s turn is it to pick out the movie?” David asks and Emma raises her hand.

“Um, I think it should be mine because I deserve it after tonight,” she smiles brightly and Killian sits forward.

“Darling, wouldn’t that hold true for both of us, meaning that it would be _our_ turn to pick?”

Her bottom lip pokes out—he wants to bite it—and she softly whines, “You don’t like movies!”

Pressing his lips together, he suppresses his grin at how adorable she looks with her head tilted back and relents.

“Aye, it’s your turn.”

Her face lights up and from the corner of his eye, he sees Liam shake his head before walking into the kitchen with a handful of dishes.

_Odd._

Slapping her hand down onto the table, she stands with a smile and says, “Let’s ‘Princess Bride’ it up in this place!”

“Wait,” Belle calls out, making them all stop clearing their plates. “Mary Margaret, you never said how you knew.”

With a smirk, the little lass picks up her plate and says, “Emma’s never late anymore.”

* * *

“I don’t know, Leroy,” David groans into the phone, a bored look on his face. “Why _would_ Regina make a noise complaint about you?”

Killian snorts as he thumbs through his Instagram feed, smiling at the most recent photo Emma had taken—the two of them kissing—and hits the heart. He’s just about to continue on when he notices the comment from his brother underneath.

**_‘Bloody hell, it’s bad enough we have to see you snogging when we’re all together, must you post it on here as well?’_ **

While Emma replies back is in a joking manner, the comment doesn’t sit right with him. Since they became public, Liam has been acting strangely toward them and it’s making Killian uneasy. He mentioned it to Emma, but she simply smirked and told him to ask Liam himself.

He decided against it, thought perhaps his brother just needed time to get used to the idea of his younger brother and someone he saw as a younger sister together, now, he’s not so sure.

Bringing up his messages, he finds Liam and types out a text.

**Do you have any plans tonight? – K**

**Just going out to dinner with Belle, is there something you need? – L**

**Have time for a chat before you leave? – K**

**Of course. See you then. – L**

There’s a ghost of a smile that appears on his lips. Sometimes he forgets that no matter what it may be, his brother never hesitates to make time for him when asked. Propping his feet up on the desk, he waits for his mate to get done with his phone call. The two were about to leave for a late lunch when the station phone rang...twenty minutes ago.

“Well if you were outside of her office, doesn’t that explain it?” David argues as he slaps his hand on the desk with an exasperated sigh.

“What do you mean, Dave?” Killian teases in a whisper. “Leroy is as quiet as a mouse!”

David flips him the finger before he puts the receiver back up to his mouth.

“Look, Leroy, here’s the solution: you stay away from Town Hall, and it won’t give Regina any more reasons to make these false accusations that you claim...it doesn’t matter if I believe her or—damn it, Leroy, I’m the Sheriff just stay away from Town Hall, okay?!...Good.” He slams the phone down and puts his head in his hands. “What the hell is _wrong_ with that man?” He looks up to Killian and motions to the phone. “He knows that you can hear him across town and why he insists on antagonizing Regina is beyond me...the two can’t stand each other!”

Killian shoves his phone back into his pocket and pushes himself out of the chair.

“Mate, you look like you could use a vacation.”

With a long sigh, David runs his hand through his hair and nods, “Yeah, Mary Margaret has been hinting at taking a mini vacation before Thanksgiving.”

“You should do it,” Killian insists. “It’s nice to get away occasionally, even if it’s just for a weekend, like how your sister and I went away last weekend.”

David gives him a blank stare before he stands.

“That wasn’t a vacation, that was her working on a case and you tagging along. Did she catch the guy, by the way? She never said.”

Killian leans back against the desk and folds his arms over his chest.

“Of course she did, you know your sister.”

He watches as his friend picks up his bottle of water with a tilt of his head. “Yeah, I do. Has she mentioned to you about my offer?”

Scratching at his scruff, Killian debates on his answer. He and Emma have discussed David’s offer—well, he _talked,_ she just nodded and asked for more onion rings—but nothing has come from it. She’s told her brother she’s still thinking, and though David believes her, she isn’t fooling Killian.

He knows that deep down she wants to take the job, that private investigating has become exhaustive and unfulfilling—she’s been declining more cases than accepting them—though she’ll never admit it. Becoming a P.I. was something she started herself, something she worked hard at, and she feels she would be abandoning it if she took the position as deputy.

When he tried to get her to explain, she ended the conversation.

“A bit,” he finally answers. “But she hasn’t made a decision.”

David raises his eyebrow, “Do you think she should take it?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, Dave. It’s her choice and I’ll support her no matter what.”

There’s a small smile that tugs at his mate’s lips before he gives a nod in agreement.

“Well,” he starts with a sigh, “she’s supposed to swing by tomorrow for lunch, I’ll talk to her then.”

Killian snorts, “Trying to persuade her then?”

“Whatever helps.”

Both men chuckle just as a loud ringing echoes off the walls, making them flinch.

“Bloody hell, what is _that_?”

With a grimace, David walks to the back desk. “Our fax…” He hits a button and the sound starts to lessen. “I leave it loud for when I’m in the back.”

“I think that just blew my eardrum out,” he grumbles, rubbing at his ear and shaking his head.

“Yeah, we need a few upgrades.” There’s a screeching sound as a piece of paper slowly spits out of the machine. “Honestly, I don’t even use it, but it’s the only way for us to communicate with other states.”

“How do you mean?”

David motions to the board behind the fax where different types of flyers and maps hang.

“Whenever there’s an outstanding warrant for someone with a major crime, all the surrounding counties and towns get a copy of the bulletin...just in case the person happens to be hiding out here.”

“And has that ever happened?”

Chuckling, David plucks the paper from the fax and says, “No. No one comes to Storybrooke. Most people don’t even—”

He stops abruptly and Killian tilts his head, his brow furrowing as he watches David’s body go completely stiff, making the paper almost vibrate in his hand.

“Everything alright there, mate?”

“Son of a bitch.”

“What’s that, now?”

“Neal Cassidy,” David growls between clenched teeth.

_Why does that name sound…?_

“ _What_?” Killian gasps, his body on high alert as he pushes himself off the desk and moves to look down at the paper. The man in the lineup photo stares up at him with long shaggy hair and a bored look on his face. “Emma’s ex, Neal Cassidy?”

David’s head whips over toward him, a look of pure shock painted on his face.

“Emma told you about him?”

Killian nods, his eyes still on the paper, “Aye.”

“What did she tell you?”

His gaze moves back up to David to find him staring and his brows pinched together in what appears to be anger.

“Everything,” Killian mumbles. “She told me everything.”

David’s mouth falls open and he takes a step back, his eyes moving back and forth between Killian’s. Unsure of what to say, he simply keeps quiet while his friend processes what he’s just told him. It’s a moment before his face softens and he gives Killian a slight nod before turning back to the paper in his hand.

“Do you see these? Burglary, resisting arrest, bail jumping…”

Killian’s jaw clenches as he eyes the man in the photograph. He wasn’t exactly sure what he thought Neal Cassidy would look like, but the person in the picture wasn’t it. The beard on his face looks more like a bird’s nest, there are dark shadows under his eyes and his long hair curls out around his ears.

_Looks like a right git._

David’s gaze moves back up at him and he waves the paper between them. “I always knew he was a piece of shit!”

Killian’s brow furrows as he watches David stomp over to his desk and shoves it into a drawer.

“You’re not going to hang it on the board?”

Shaking his head, David moves to grab his jacket from the coat rack, “No. I don’t want Emma to see that, it’ll just upset her.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he gives a grimace and David shrugs, “What?”

“I don’t know how I feel about keeping something such as this from you sister, mate.”

He sighs as he fixes the collar of his coat.

“Trust me, if we tell her, she’ll act like she’s okay, but then she’ll do nothing but think about it.” When Killian raises his brow, David rolls his eyes. “It’s not like it’ll affect her anyway. Neal Cassidy is long gone.”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!
> 
> Thank you to the lovely and beautiful @yeahiliketheredleatherjacket & @thesschesthair for edits and banner making. I love you girls.
> 
> And a special shout out to @snarkycaptainswan4 for her help with the French language !! You rock!

**Chapter Fifteen**

Emma runs down the street with a large smile on her face. The frigid wind feels almost like tiny needle points pricking her face, and she’s panting by the time she reaches the library, but she doesn’t care. Pushing herself through the door, she glides against the floor and crashes into the main desk, making Belle jump.

“Oh, Emma!” The brunette cries out. “Are you alright?”

Reaching down to rub her stinging knee, she lets out a breathless chuckle, “Yes, sorry, I’m fine.” Taking a deep breath, she straightens. “Is Killian around?”

Amusement flashes in Belle’s eyes before she nods and motions to the back.

“He was in the back cataloging, but it’s been awhile, he probably found a book.”

With a quick thanks, she rushes to the back, checking all three aisles until she finds her boyfriend in the Nautical section, leaning against a shelf with a book in his hand. He gives a slight jump when she runs up to him before his face morphs into a brilliant smile.

“‘Ello, beautiful, this is a happy surp—”

“I have news!”

The right side of his lips quirk up as he closes the book, “I would say you do, you’re practically vibrating before me, love.”

A small giggle passes her lips as she reaches up to take a hold of him.

“Remember I told you about that case I was hired for right before you moved here?”

She watches as he tilts his head and thinks for a moment before his brow furrows in concentration.

“Aye, the lad that was searching for his birth mother?” Answering him with a nod, she sees his eyes widen slightly before he grasps her elbows. “You found her, didn’t you?”

“I found her!” she squeals in excitement.

Killian pulls her into his arms, squeezing her tight before he briefly lifts her off the ground.

“You’re brilliant,” he moves back to cup her face. “Bloody amazing!”

There’s a giggle that escapes her seconds before she presses her lips to his.

Eight months ago, James Rogers contacted her, asking for help in locating his birth mother since it had been a closed adoption. It took time and money, but she was finally able to locate the woman in a small town just outside of Philadelphia.

“I knew you could do it,” he breathes against her lips, his eyes flickering between hers. “When do you leave?”

“Well, I’m going to email her first. When she gets back to me, I’ll set up a time to meet.” She takes a step back and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to let him know just yet. The whole thing is going to be alarming for her, and we don’t need to add James’s excitement, too.”

Killian nods with a little smirk, “You believe he’ll be too anxious to wait?”

It’s not hard to put herself in James’s shoes; for two years, she searched for her birth parents, and every possible lead, every sliver of hope, no matter how much she told herself not to get excited, would be disappointment in the end.

She doesn’t want that for James, too.

“I know he will be,” she mumbles.

Her eyes flicker quickly to the ground before Killian steps forward, placing his finger under her chin and forcing her to look up. His face is soft as he leans in to press a light kiss to the tip of her nose, and it makes her feel a thousand times better.

“We should go out tonight and celebrate,” he tells her with a smile, his arms wrapping around her waist. “You fancy that new restaurant, don’t you?”

“I could wear that red dress you like.”

His tongue presses to the back of his teeth as he draws her closer with the seductive look in his eyes she loves so much.

“Sweetheart, that dress is absolutely _sinful_. Are you certain it’s not illegal?” She smacks his chest in a playful manner, making him chuckle before he nods, “It’s settled then. I’ll come pick you up at—”

A throat being cleared makes them both look over to find Belle standing at the end of the aisle. There’s a tint to her cheeks and a small smile on her face.

“Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping, I just happened to hear and, well, we’re all supposed to go to Mary Margaret’s tonight...to fit for our costumes,” Belle explains with a grimace.

Emma groans and lets her head fall to Killian’s chest while he huffs.

“Bloody hell. Has she even told anyone what our costumes are?”

Belle looks back over her shoulder before she steps forward with a whisper, “Jasmine did mention she’s been reading a lot of fairytale books while on lunch at work.”

Snorting, Emma lifts her head and takes a step back.

“So we’re all going to be fairytale couples.” When both Killian and Belle look at her confused, she rolls her eyes. “Her and David will probably be Snow White and Prince Charming—” She looks to Killian. “—she’s been obsessed with it ever since she found out you call them the Charming’s.” She turns back to Belle. “And you and Liam are going to be Belle and The Beast. I’m just not sure who she’ll have Killian and I be.”

“Oh!” Belle gasps. “Sleeping Beauty and Prince Phillip, perhaps?”

“I’m not dressing up as some sodding prince!” He cries out, his face screwed up in disgust, making both girls laugh.

Patting him on the arm, Emma’s right shoulder tugs up slightly, “Maybe she’ll go with Rapunzel and Flynn Rider, that’s more up your alley, babe.”

His brow furrows.

“I’ve never heard of this Flynn Rider, is he devilishly handsome like I am?”

“His head is definitely as big as yours, and how have you not heard of Flynn Rider?” He gives a shrug and Emma shakes her head. “Well, looks like I know what movie we’ll be watching tonight.”

“Just remember, we have to keep quiet,” Belle says with a smile. “You know what happened the last time we found out one of her surprises.”

Emma flinches as they all turn to walk to the front of the library.

“She did yell pretty loud.”

“In my brother’s defense, who talks about a surprise party while the person it’s for is in the other room?”

“David really ought to speak with her about secrets and surprises,” Belle calls over her shoulder.

With a snort, Emma’s just about to round the corner when she feels something brush against her elbow.

“Hey,” Killian whispers, pulling her back to him. “We’ll celebrate after, aye? Bottle of rum with a couple of blankets out on your balcony under the stars? Could be romantic.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Biting her lip, she takes a step forward to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I’ll still wear the red dress.”

His eyebrows shoot up and his bottom lip pushes out, “Promise?”

Giggling, she takes a hold of his arm and pulls him to follow.

* * *

The sight of her balcony later that night is utterly breathtaking, and Emma has to shake her head to convince herself that it’s real.

Killian’s pulled the chairs into the apartment, replacing them with a mountain of blankets and pillows, and in the middle, is a tray with two mugs, a thermos and a single rose.

“What’s all this?”

His smile is infectious as he pulls her down in between his legs.

“I said we would celebrate and here we are,” he explains while pouring a steaming liquid into their mugs.

Looking down, she frowns at the sweats and hoodie she's wearing.

“This isn't exactly the outfit I had in mind, though.”

A breathless chuckle passes his lips as he hands her a mug, “While I will never complain about seeing you in that _illegal_ dress, I'm afraid there's a chill in the air tonight, and you still look as beautiful as ever.”

The mug, which is filled with hot chocolate spiked with rum, is warm against her skin and she rolls her eyes.

“I'm wearing sweats and a beat-up old hoodie.”

“Oi!” He pokes her in the side. “That happens to my beat-up old hoodie, Swan, which, by the way, am I ever going to get back?”

Snorting out a laugh, she takes a small sip of her drink and shakes her head. “It’s not looking good. Just think of it like this: it could be payment for the time you thought Liam and I were together.”

“Oh, and where's my payment for you telling David about us without me being present?”

Her eyes narrow at his sly grin because he finally has her for something and she doesn't like it.

Ignoring her glare, he lifts his mug and taps it against her own.

“Congratulations on solving the case, love,” he presses his lips to hers, softly. “I'm extremely proud of you.”

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, attempting not to blush at his compliment.

“It's still kind of surreal, I've been searching for her for months…”

“You've had cases that took a while before.”

“It’s more than that,” she mumbles, her fingers fiddling with the ring on his index finger. Instead of responding, he rests his chin on her shoulder and she sighs, “Remember how I told you I was found?”

“Aye,” he whispers, his lips brushing softly to the spot just under her ear. “On the side of a road.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nods.

“Which means there really isn’t any records, but after Ruth died...I wanted to know where I came from, so I searched anyway.” His arms tighten around her, and the warmth of his body makes her feel safe. “For two years straight I searched for my birth parents...it’s the one case that I’ve never been able to solve, and I didn’t want that to happen for James, too.” She turns to look at him. “It’s why I was so hesitant to take David’s offer, I didn’t want to have _two_ unsolved cases under my belt…”

“And now?”

Taking a deep breath, she sips on her hot chocolate as she contemplates her answer.

“After this case, I think I'm going to say yes. I can always do consulting, and with the number of photography jobs everyone keeps hiring me for around here, I could still make the same money.”

“They do love having you take photos of the strangest things...what was it last week?”

“August had me take pictures for his table at some fair.”

“Ah, that's it,” he pulls her back into him with a smirk. “The wooden man child wishes to sell his dolls!” She smacks him in the stomach and he laughs breathlessly. “It's bloody true, is it not?”

“If I didn't know any better I'd say you were jealous.”

There's a snort as he adjusts his arms and takes a sip from his mug.

“Why would I be jealous?” She feels him shrug before he continues, “Though I do know you're partial to men in leather jackets.”

A small giggle passes her lips and she rests her head back against his shoulder, the leather from his own jacket cooling her.

_Hm, maybe he's right._

They stay outside for a long while, drinking all the rum filled hot chocolate while she asks him to point out all the constellations.

He's explained them to her already—she has them all memorized—but his voice always soothes her. It wraps around her like a warm blanket, making her feel safe and cared for. She also loves how he’ll add in little quips just to make her laugh—

_“And that right there is the constellation known as the Jolly Roger.”_

_Her brow furrows. “Wait...what?” He attempts to hold back his laugh but quickly loses that battle, making her slap at his arm. “You have a serious obsession with Captain Hook.”_

_He tickles her sides and her giggles echo into the night._

—before explaining to her what it really is.

There’s a part of her that’s convinced he really does know everything, because there hasn’t been a thing that she can think of that Killian didn’t know about. She often jokes he’s a walking encyclopedia and that it’s no wonder his head is so big, it’s to keep in all that knowledge.

“We received a new shipment of books at the library today,” he starts softly. “Belle’s rather excited, they are in French, and apparently she’s always meant to learn the language.”

With a snort, she snuggles back into his arms, “I don’t think we have anyone in Storybrooke that can teach her, she’ll probably have to get one of those books on tape.”

She feels his smirk against her cheek. “That won’t be necessary.”

“How come?”

His lips move to her ear and he whispers, “Parce que je peux lui apprendre.”

Eyes going wide, Emma sits up with a gasp, her head snapping back to look at him.

“You speak French?!”

Biting his lip, he gives a slight shrug. “A bit.”

Her throat suddenly feels dry and her eyes flicker to his lips. To hear something as beautiful as the French language fall from his lips, a shiver runs through her and his smirk widens.

“What else can you say?”

His eyes move to her lips as he reaches up to cup her jaw.

“As-tu une idée de combien tu es irrésistible?” Her heart starts to pound in her chest, the low temper of his voice making her throb. “Chaque moment, de tous les jours, je ne pense que à toi. Tu as changé de moi dans le plus beau chemin.” He brushes his thumb over the apple of her cheek, his eyes connecting with hers. “Je suis amoureux de toi.”

Her eyes move back and forth between his and she’s practically panting. Listening to him speak has always been erotic, but hearing him speak another language— _fuck_ —she's only just holding back from throwing herself at him.

Swallowing, her voice comes out huskier than she intends, “What does that mean?”

The right side of his lips tug up, but instead of answering her, he simply leans forward and presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose.

Without thinking, she fuses her lips with his, barely noticing his groan or how he manages to lay them down. She loves the feel of his body over hers, the way he presses his hips down, almost pinning her while the muscles in his back ripple beneath her fingers. Her legs hitch up around his waist, encouraging him to grind against the spot that needs his touch the most.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmurs against her lips. “I don’t wish for you to freeze on me.”

With a nod, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and gasps as he pushes himself up, lifting her with minimal effort. By the time they reach her living room—how he gets them both through the window, she has no clue—he has her hoodie and shirt thrown to the floor and he’s sucking a mark onto her collarbone.

She giggles as he drops her to the couch and wiggles his eyebrows before reaching behind him to pull his shirt off.

_God, she loves how he does that, wait, when did he take his jacket off?_

“You are so beautiful,” he breathes, his lips once again dragging down the column of her skin. “So precious. Allow me to show you, my love?”

Her skin is prickling, the low vibrations of his voice making her shiver. Pushing her pants and underwear down, she gives a nod, relaxing more into the couch and waits.

Biting his lip, he moves down her body as he places her legs over his shoulders. She gasps as he blows a cooling breath against her before moving to lick a long, slow strip through her folds with the flat of his tongue.

Her back arches off the couch and her eyes squeeze shut, a soft whimper escaping her lips.

With a groan, he parts his lips to slide his tongue in, circling over her clit while his fingers dig into her thighs. Her hips jerk forward and she grips the fabric of the couch. It should really be illegal how good he is, the way his tongue flutters over her nerves before it dips into her entrance, thrusting in and out at an impossible speed.

She’s so close to falling already, but she wants to hold off as long as possible.

“Killian,” she huffs, her head thrown back against the couch. “P-please.”

His moan vibrates against her skin as he sucks on her clit and she feels his finger trace her entrance. Seconds later, he’s pushing two fingers into her, and she can’t help but lift herself up higher to grind against his face.

Her moans echo throughout the apartment and her fingers tangle in his hair. The pleasure is building up inside of her; with every pump of his fingers and slide of his tongue, she finds herself climbing closer and closer to the edge, and when he curls his fingers inside her as his lips tighten around her clit, she finally falls.

Fireworks ignite behind her fluttering eyelids as her body arches closer to his mouth. His fingers and tongue speed up, stroking her through her orgasm until she falls back down onto the couch, her limbs a big puddle of goo.

“My good girl,” he praises softly, kissing her clit before pulling back and removing her legs from his shoulders. Her heart is pounding in her chest and she just barely registers the sound of his pants falling to the floor before his hands are on her hips and he’s flipping her over.

Brushing the hair from her face, she props herself up against the back of the couch while he kneels behind her and moans as he pushes himself inside of her with a long, slow groan of relief.

“Oh, Emma,” he breathes heavily against her cheek. “You feel amazing, so bloody amazing.”

His fingers dig into her hips as he moves, long deliberate strokes that drag against her walls with each thrust. Turning her head, she brushes her lips against his, moaning at her own taste, and reaches back to tangle her fingers in his hair.

When he presses himself deeper and harder, her head falls forward, low gasps escaping her as her eyes squeeze shut.

“I’m not going to last,” he moans breathlessly against her ear. “You f-feel— _fuck_ —you feel too bloody good.”

“Come,” she begs with a choked sob. “Come for me, Killian.”

With three final pumps, he lets out a strangled groan before spilling himself inside of her. The weight of his body collapsing against her makes her fall forward, and a small smile forms on her lips at the feel of his pants on her neck.

Taking a big gulp of air, she breathes out a chuckle and turns to rest her cheek on the couch.

“Feel free to speak French to me anytime you'd like.”

He chuckles breathlessly before pressing a soft kiss in between her shoulder blades.

“As you wish.”

* * *

Emma still remembers the first day she met Mary Margaret.

Ruth was sent a letter, requesting her to come to a town hall meeting in Storybrooke since she owned a building and Emma tagged along. She sat in the back while Ruth asked questions and spoke to the neighbors when all of a sudden, this woman with long, black hair sat down next to her and said,

_“Hi! I’m Mary Margaret, want to be friends?”_

She’s always been an ‘in your face’ type of person, but caring and loving. Besides David, and now Killian, she’s one of the few people that understands her inside and out.

Which means her sister-in-law knows that she would _not_ want to dress up like a princess for Halloween, and Emma loves her for it.

Opening her bedroom door, she walks out to her living room to find Killian adjusting the mask on his face.

_She also loves her for getting Killian to wear leather pants._

“Ready there, Captain?”

Her cheeks flush—almost matching the color of her dress—as his eyes rake over her.

“You look stunning, Swan.”

“You look…”

He waves his hand in an unimpressed gesture before shrugging, “I know, I do make one hell of a dread pirate Roberts if I say so myself.”

Her mind is too clouded to understand exactly what he’s saying because _damn,_ he looks amazing. It’s like her fantasies are coming to life right before her eyes and she wants nothing more than to tug him into her bedroom to finish what they started earlier, before Liam interrupted them.

_Stupid older brothers_.

Killian’s eyebrow ticks up before his eyes flicker to the right. It’s then she notices the black eyeliner and her thighs instantly clench.

_Fuck_.

“Do we have time?”

Shaking her head, she grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him to her with a groan of, “I don’t care.”

His lips move roughly against hers, his hands pulling her hips closer to his body as she claws at the fabric on his back. There’s a grunt before he lifts her, his left arm wrapping around her waist to hold her while his right hand moves to cup her jaw.

“Bloody hell,” he breathes against her lips. “You’re amazing.”

She places her hands on either side of his face and bumps her nose to his.

“You’re biased.”

Watching his expression soften, she traces the curve of his cheek bone with her thumb as he mumbles, “You’re beautiful.”

Her eyes move back and forth between his before she pulls him in for another kiss. He begins to move them back to her bedroom when there’s a knock at her front door that stops him.

“Go away!” Killian growls, making her giggle against his lips.

“I was tasked with coming to get you,” Belle’s unsure voice calls through the door, “It’s time to go.”

Emma’s eyes close as Killian nips at her neck and she takes a deep breath.

“Um,” her tongue pokes out to lick her lips. “We’re going to— _ah_ —drive ourselves, we’ll meet everyone there.”

He begins to walk again when Belle’s voice calls out, “Uh, I was told if I come back without you two, that Liam and David would come up here personally, no matter the excuse.” She pauses before pleading, “Please don’t put me through that.”

Killian’s head pulls back to look at her, his eyebrow up and her eyes go wide.

“No!” She gasps and wiggles to get down. “We’re not sending Belle into the line of fire just for a quickie.”

“Trust me, darling,” he allows her to drop and taps her chin with his finger, “there’s nothing quick about what I had in mind.”

* * *

Emma should have listened to Killian, because though the Halloween Ball isn’t a total disaster—she even dances—it’s one big game of foreplay. Every brush of his hand on her back, every whisper of his breath across her ear…he’s doing it all on purpose and she’s going to kill him.

Or kiss him.

Three times they’ve tried to sneak off, three times they’ve been thwarted—it’s like Mary Margaret and her brother have a ‘Emma and Killian want to leave to have sex’ alarm that goes off whenever they get too close to each other.

_Really need to smash that alarm to bits._

A fresh drink appears in front of her just as she feels a hand touch the small of her back.

“Thank you.”

Killian answers with a kiss to her temple and she smiles. It is nice to receive affection from him out in public, and even nicer that the initial shock of them being a couple is over. They no longer get any more questions, but they _do_ have to endure being told how adorable they are—which her boyfriend eats up, because he’s a fucking ham who has the ego the size of a country.

Honestly, she can see his head grow bigger with each compliment.

“Do you wish to dance some more?”

Her answer is interrupted by someone requesting to take their picture and her breath hitches when he pulls her close. The smell of his cologne mixed with leather invades her senses and she suddenly feels weak in the knees. The photographer walks off and Killian turns back to her, repeating his question of dancing, but she shakes her head.

“Everything alright, love?”

Her tongue pokes out to lick her bottom lip and his eyes darken. With her heart beating in her chest, she steps forward.

“Not quite.”

He blinks, swallowing roughly before whispering, “Do you think we have a chance?”

Her eyes flicker over the crowd, everyone is either dancing or occupied at a table with someone else, and though she doesn’t see Mary Margaret anywhere, she decides it’s the best time.

“We do if we go now.”

The feel of Killian wrapping his fingers around her wrist excites her even more and she willingly follows as he pulls her toward the exit. It’s the farthest they’ve gotten yet, and she can’t help but pull him to her. He groans against her lips as they stumble back against a wall, barely able to keep up straight. Her core is aching, and with every swipe of his tongue her skin prickles in anticipation.

“I’ve been hard for you all night,” he growls against her skin. “I can’t wait to sink myself into your hot, _wet_ qui—”

“Oh, there you guys are! Emma, have you seen my—” Mary Margaret stops abruptly as their heads whip over to her. The three stare at each other for what seems like ages before her sister-in-law presses her lips together. “Am I interrupting something?”

Emma blinks and eventually tears her eyes away, flinching at their position. She’s bent back with her hands tangled in Killian’s hair while he’s holding her hips against his body.

Her and Killian answer at the same time.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Tugging lightly on his hair, she pushes him away and straightens, brushing down the front of her dress.

“What did you need?”

“Um,” Mary Margaret adverts her eyes and motions behind her, making the feathers on her dress fluff. “I was just…I was just wondering if you’ve seen my purse.”

Killian reaches up to swipe at his bottom lip as he shuffles on his feet and she pats him on the back.

“No, but we can help you find it.”

A slight huff passes his lips, making Mary Margaret blush and look down to her feet.

“I’m afraid I have to use the facilities,” he answers before leaning in to whisper in her ear, “and splash a bit of cold water on my face.”

Emma giggles as he presses a light kiss to her temple before stalking off down the hall, giving her a perfect glance of his ass in those leather pants. Shaking her head, she turns to Mary Margaret.

“Let’s go find your purse.”

Her purse is found by the DJ’s stand because the second they walked in, they found Regina yelling at him because she didn’t agree with the music he was playing and Mary Margaret ran over to run interference.

“Thank you,” Mary Margaret sighs, clutching it to her chest. “And I wish I could say I’m sorry for interrupting you two, but I’m not because then you would be gone before the contest and I entered you guys!”

Emma rolls her eyes.

“Of course you did.” Shaking her head, she motions to the bar. “I’m going to the bar; do you want a drink?”

Mary Margaret shakes her head before waving to Nurse Blue and walking off. Smiling at the bartender, Emma taps her fingers to the beat of the music and waits for her drinks.

“Having a good time?” Emma smiles as Liam walks up, leaning his elbow on the bar. “Also, if I haven’t told you, you look beautiful tonight, lass. It’s a very fetching costume for you both.”

She smiles, her eyes flickering down to her red dress.

“Yeah, Mary Margaret did a good job this year. Plus, it’s one your brother doesn’t seem to mind too much.” Liam smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and she tilts her head. “Everything alright?”

“Aye,” he looks back to the crowd before stepping forward. “Would it be possible for us to meet soon to talk?”

Smirking, she turns to him fully, her voice dripping with amusement. “Is this like a protective big brother talk where you make sure I’m good enough for Killian?”

“Yes, it is.”

She gives a snort and shakes her head, “I knew it was coming. Though, I’m surprised you waited this long.”

All her life she’s prided herself on being pretty good at reading people, and since the moment her and Killian became public, she’s known Liam has felt a certain _way_ about it. Killian swore it was because of him, but Emma knew better. Though her and Liam are friends, Killian is his younger brother and his only concern.

“Killian’s asked me not to have this conversation with you or else it would have been,” Liam starts, making Emma chuckle. “But I feel it’s one that must be had.”

The bartender comes back with her drinks and she gives a polite nod in thanks before turning to Liam.

“I’ll come by Wednesday when you’re done with work. Killian has to work late, so he won’t know.”

His brow furrows before he mumbles, “You’re willing to keep this from him?”

Irritation starts to rise in her as she stares at him blankly.

“I’m willing to have a conversation with a friend that he feels is important. Don’t go looking for excuses as to why I’m not good enough for you brother, Liam, just because you haven’t asked me what you want to ask yet.”

His eyes search hers for what feels like ages before he finally nods.

“Wednesday then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parce que je peux lui apprendre  
> =  
> Because I can teach her.  
> x  
> As-tu une idée de combien tu es irrésistible?  
> =  
> Do you have any idea how irresistible you are?  
> x  
> Chaque moment, de tous les jours, je ne pense que à toi  
> =  
> Every moment, of every day, I do nothing but think of you.  
> x  
> Tu as changé de moi dans le plus beau chemin  
> =  
> You've changed me in the most wonderful way.  
> x  
> Je suis amoureux de toi  
> =  
> I'm in love with you.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always thank you to April for her hard work on making me not look like a total failure and Mandy for her kick ass banner skills!
> 
> Just remember, I love you all and I gave you two updates this week. Aren’t I such a nice person!? 
> 
> Double line breaks means change in POV.

**Chapter Sixteen**

“If no one calls in by six, just head on home,” Gus tells him as he pulls his coat on.

Killian raises his eyebrow.

“Are you certain? I don’t mind waiting around.”

The old man waves his hand with a shake of his head. “Positive. Staying open late was always experimental, anyways. No one calls, go home to that pretty lady of yours. See you tomorrow, Killian!”

He smiles at the mention of Emma, his hands itching to reach for his phone to see if she’s messaged. They had a rush of customers earlier—apparently the snow storm they are supposed to get that weekend has the citizens of Storybrooke in a panic—and he hasn’t spoken to her since she stopped by for lunch earlier.

She was wearing her red leather jacket and the gray beanie he loves.

But then she rushed off without telling him why she was so anxious, and his own fears started to eat away at him. He hates to admit it, but ever since they’ve come out, he’s been waiting for something to spook her, to send her running, because he knows how scared she is still.

There are times where he finds it nearly impossible to keep his feelings in, and he’ll tell her something small— _“You know, the best part of my day is when I get to see you.”_ —just to see how she’ll take it. Sometimes she’ll blush and shake her head, but there are other times where her eyes will go slightly wide and her breathing will increase, telling him it was too much and she wasn’t ready.

So, he’ll tell her without words—or words she can’t understand.

He’d never been happier at knowing the French language than he was the other night. Of course, Emma’s reaction and the actions after he spoke to her were amazing, but being able to tell her the truth of how he felt…it was everything.

Hearing the front door open, Killian walks back out to the main desk to find a man standing there, an anxious look on his face.

“Can I help you?”

“You Killian?”

His eyebrow hitches as he looks the man over. The jeans and cotton hoodie he’s wearing are wrinkled, like he’s slept in them, he has a goatee with a few gray hairs mixed in with the natural brown and his head is shaved. He looks… _familiar_ but Killian can’t quite place from where. Though Storybrooke is a small town, there are still people he hasn’t met so he shrugs it off.

“Aye…do I know you?”

The stranger gives a small smile before he scratches the back of his head.

“No, I, uh, I came by earlier and spoke to Gus. I have a busted tail light.”

Nodding, Killian walks over to the computer.

“Right, Malcolm with the Ford Five Hundred, correct?” He grunts his answer and Killian has to hold back from rolling his eyes. “Well, it looks like Gus was able to locate a tail light, but the earliest it will be here is Monday.”

There’s a frustrated huff before he asks, “Is there any way it could be sooner?”

Looking back at the monitor, Killian gives a slight grimace.

“Afraid not. With older cars, it’s harder to find them, and even with the shipment being expedited it still won’t go out until Friday morning, and we’re closed this weekend…”

Malcolm slams his hand down onto the counter and Killian takes a step back.

“It would have been nice if grandfather time would have told me that when I first dropped my car off!” Clenching his jaw, Killian tries to remind himself that he’s working and this man is a customer, so he must be respectful. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

Even if he’s a complete tosser.

“Well, if you’re unhappy, we can always cancel the order and you may take your car somewhere else, but I have to warn you, the next shop is two towns over.”

Malcolm glares.

“Is Granny’s Bed and Breakfast still here?”

“Aye.”

Killian watches as he rips a flyer from its plastic holder, uncaring that he knocks over the small candy tray, and scribbles a number onto it before shoving it forward.

“Call me if it comes in early.”

Pressing his lips together in a forced grin, Killian nods. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

There’s a moment where he just stares, his eyes looking him over, and Killian thinks he’s going to say something else before he shakes his head and leaves without another word.

“Wanker.”

* * *

When no one calls for an appointment, Killian debates on keeping the shop open, but he doesn’t feel like sitting around, so he forwards the calls from the shop to his cell phone—just in case—and locks up.

The rain has just started and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Earlier, Emma left her car so he wouldn’t have to walk home because it was supposed to rain. He thought she was mistaken and now he knows he won’t hear the end of it.

It’s a short drive and he can’t help but chuckle when he finds one of his Henley shirts on her passenger seat. He loves her, but pretty soon he’s going to run out of clothes because she keeps stealing them.

Opening the door to his flat, he stops short when he finds Emma and Liam standing in the kitchen.

“Swan,” he starts with a smile. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.” He moves to her right away, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, but pulls back with his brow furrowed when he picks up on the tension radiating off her. “Everything alright?”

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and folds her arms over her chest. Looking over to Liam, he notices his brother is holding the same tension.

“What’s going on?”

Neither of them answer. Instead, they both look to the floor and Killian’s jaw tightens because he knows exactly what’s happening.

When he spoke to his brother a while back, Liam admitted he had concerns when it came to their relationship, that there were things he wished to discuss with Emma without him present, and Killian told him under no circumstances that would be happening.

The last thing he needs is for Liam to try and ward Emma off by making him look bad because he feels Killian isn’t good enough for her.

Stepping forward, he growls, “Liam…”

“Killian, it’s fine,” Emma sighs.

“I _told_ you if you wished to speak about our relationship, you were to do it with the _both_ of us!” Liam holds his hands out in front of him, opening his mouth to answer but Killian cuts him off, “Instead you wait until I’m gone and go behind my back!”

There are a million thoughts running through his head. He’s angry over the fact that his brother completely defied his wishes and scared of the repercussions.

“Killian,” Emma tries again, but Liam steps forward.

“Little brother, I understand you’re upset—”

“Younger,” Killian growls, “And upset doesn’t _begin_ to explain what I am.”

Liam sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “If you would just take a moment to let me explain—”

Killian’s eyes go wide.

“No, you don’t get a chance to explain, Liam! How dare you do this, I specifically told you not to.”

“I told him it was okay,” Emma speaks up, “so if you want to blame someone, blame me.”

Turning to her, he shakes his head. “Don’t stick up for him, love. He’s aware of what he’s done.” When he looks back to Liam, it’s with a glare. “You and I will be talking about this but right now I can barely look at you. Come, Emma, let’s—“

“No,” Emma says, and his head snaps up toward her. “You should stay here and talk to Liam.”

His brow furrows and his heart starts to pound in his chest. She’s pulling away from him…whatever Liam said to her is making her pull away.

“Emma—”

“It’s alright.” Her smile is forced, but she places her hand upon his jaw.

He wants to tell her that whatever Liam may have said is not true, that he _can_ be a better man, a man worthy of her love if she simply gives him the chance. He wants to tell her that he loves her and beg her not to leave, but the words die on his lips when she presses a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

She brushes past him and he holds onto her hand until the last possible moment, his chest aching when they finally disconnect. He watches as she turns to look back at him, a small, unsure smile on her lips before she leaves.

“What did you say to her?” he growls the second the door closes behind Emma.

“We were simply talking, Killian,” Liam answers with a sigh. “Calm down.”

Killian stalks over to Liam, his hands clenching at his sides.

“Calm down?! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“And what exactly do you think I’ve done, Killian? It was a conversation, nothing more.”

With a huff, he runs his hand through his hair as he starts to pace.

“You couldn’t just let it go, could you?” Liam opens his mouth, but Killian cuts him off, “Can you not see how I’ve changed? How I’ve been trying to better myself?”

There’s a moment of silence where Liam blinks, his brow furrowing before he answers, “Of course I have! Killian, you’re doing so well for yourself—”

“But not well enough for you to let it go? To trust that things would be different with her?”

“We just had a conversation, why are you so against it?”

_Because she has walls, because it’s been going well for far too long and I know something is bound to happen to make her run._

“What did you say to her?”

Liam shakes his head, “What are you so afrai—“

“I’m in love with her, Liam,” he chokes out, his fear overtaking him.

His brother’s face softens, “I know that, brother.”

“Then why?” He groans. “Why would you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Warn her!” He hollers, throwing his keys down onto the island. “I’m not the man that I was when I first moved here and _she’s_ the reason! Now I have to fix whatever it is you might have done.”

Liam’s face goes hard and he holds his hand out, “I _adore_ Emma, she’s a lovely person, but if you have to _fix_ things after a conversation, perhaps you should reconsider the relationship.”

Suddenly, he’s hit with flashes of Liam speaking similar words to him at a different time in his life with a very different woman and his anger reaches a boiling point.

“No, no, we are _not_ doing this again!” Killian steps forward and stabs a finger into his brother’s chest. “You tried doing this with Milah and now _Emma_? I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe—”

“Now wait just a moment!” Liam growls, slapping his hand away. “In case you’ve forgotten, Killian, you wouldn’t allow me to voice my opinions on Milah, and as for Emma, she may be a dear friend, but you’re my _brother_ and that goes above everything else.”

“So that gives you the right to go behind my back and send warnings about me to my girlfriend?”

Liam blinks, his brow furrowing, “That’s not what I—is that what you believe I did?”

With a breathless chuckle, he steps back and holds his arms out to his sides. “What else could you have possibly done?”

The features on his brother’s face turn from confusion to anger.

“I asked her what her intentions were.”

That makes him stop and his head snaps up. With his mouth falling open, his brow furrows as confusion floods him.

“You…what?”

With a sigh, his brother leans back against the island in the kitchen and motions to their front door.

“I’ve witnessed her attempts at _relationships—_ if one wishes to call them that—and I wanted to see where her head was at.”

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he mumbles, “I…uh…I thought you—why would you do that?”

Liam balks, his voice dripping with disbelief, “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my brother, it’s my job to look after you.”

He groans, “I’m a grown man, Liam! I hardly need you looking out for me.”

“When you start drinking your weight in rum and shagging everything that walks because some slag breaks your heart, you do! So forgive me if I did what I should have done the first time!”

“What the bloody hell are you on about?”

Liam is silent for a moment, his eyes wavering back and forth before he finally lets out a sigh, “What happened…with you and Milah…it was all my fault…”

“Did I forget the part where you made the decision to stay with a married woman?”

His brother runs his hand through his hair. “If I had voiced my concerns in the beginning, if I had been more aware of the situation…”

“Liam,” Killian cuts in. “The choice was mine and mine alone. I loved her…there was nothing you could have done.”

“I could have been there!” He chokes out. “Even if you wouldn’t have listened to me…I could have been there to help in some way.”

With his brow furrowed, Killian takes a step back, unsure what to say.

“You…you were there,” he whispers to him.

Liam scoffs and starts to pace back and forth.

“I’m not talking about phone calls or Skype sessions, Killian. I’m talking about physically _being_ there.” He pauses before looking to the ground. “I was so concerned with moving and the new job, I couldn’t see what was happening with you. I should never have left.”

“Liam—”

“You may be a grown man, Killian, but I’ve looked after you my whole life and leaving you when you were most vulnerable…” he trails off and shakes his head.

Killian holds his hand up, his voice low, “Brother, David told _me_ about the job here. I was the one that encouraged you to make the move, and if you remember…things with Milah and I ended after you left.”

“It doesn’t matter when it happened, Killian!” Liam growls, his frustration seeming to reach its peak. “You want to know why I’ve been hard on you since moving here? Why I’ve tried to act like your parent as you so lovingly screamed the last time we quarreled?” Killian gives a shrug, opening his mouth to respond before Liam cuts him off. “Because I _am_ your parent! I’ve been the one that has raised you your entire life. It’s why I’ve been hard on you—”

He wants to argue against it, but the fact is, everything Liam is saying is correct. He was both a father and a mother to him while they were growing up, always making sure he had enough to eat, even if it meant no meal for himself, and Liam was also the one that worked two jobs while attending school just so they could have a roof over their heads.

His brother sacrificed a lot to make sure Killian had a future, and though he’s lost his path in the past, he’s trying his best to not throw it away anymore.

“And you just love reminding me of what a disappointment I am, is that it?”

Liam’s face is stern as he stomps over and grasps Killian by the shoulders.

“Not _once_ in my entire life have I _ever_ been disappointed in you. You’re a good man, Killian. Anyone with eyes can see that. My being hard on you has nothing to do with you, it’s all about me and my regrets. I was so consumed with my own guilt over the fire, I kept my mouth shut in the beginning about Milah because I thought if I said anything you’d…l-leave me.” His words get caught in his throat and Killian sucks in a breath. “But in the end I was the one that left. Perhaps if I hadn’t and been a bit harder, I could have prevented you from getting your heart broken.”

He looks back and forth between Liam’s eyes and his mouth falls open. He’s always believed Liam blamed _him_ for getting caught in the fire because if hadn’t gone out to the pub that night, he would have been there when the fire started and could have woken Liam up in time to have gotten him out without injury.

But now he realizes that he’s been wrong, so very wrong. Reaching up to place his hand on Liam’s elbow, he waits a moment to answer so that he may properly word his response.

“Part of parenting, Liam,” he starts in a low voice, “is to allow your child to make mistakes and to allow them to learn from them. You can’t protect me forever.”

Liam gives a watery chuckle.

“I’ll never stop trying to protect you, Killian, whether it be from outside sources or yourself.”

Killian shakes his head. “I know I have demons and that they are of my own making…but I’m trying to overcome them—”

“We don’t overcome our demons, little brother. We just learn to live above them.” Liam pats him on his cheek before stepping back to give him space again and Killian takes a deep breath.

He watches as Liam backs up into the kitchen and opens a cabinet. Surprise rushes through him as his brother pulls his bottle of rum out with two tumblers and places them on the island.

“I will not tell you about the conversation I had with Emma,” he explains, pouring each of them a glass as Killian sits down on a stool, his shoulders sagging in disappointment. “What I _will_ tell you is, despite the tension you walked in on, the conversation went well.”

With a grumble, he picks up his glass. “That’s much, brother.”

Liam chuckles. “No, I suppose it isn’t, but it’s all you’re getting.” He sits down across from him with a smile. “Now, tell me all about this lady who has you head over heels.”

Killian can feel the burn on his cheeks and he looks down to his lap. It’s the first time he’s been asked for his side of their relationship—with David it was more reassurance he wasn’t going to hurt his sister—and he feels a little…nervous.

“Well,” he clears his throat, excitement starting to bubble up in him as he tells his brother how he came to find himself in love with the blonde three stories up.

* * *

Later in the night, after Killian finally checks his phone, he finds a message from Emma stating she ran into Belle in the hallway and when they finally go up, they find their women asleep on the couch.

Liam softly shakes Belle awake while Killian kicks his shoes off by the door. Their voices are low, as to not awake Emma and he waits to the side. He watches as his brother picks up her purse and shoes as Belle stands, stretching her arms above her. The brunette gives him a sleepy smile along with a pat on the arm when she passes, and Killian mumbles a goodnight to her.

“You staying here?” Liam asks in a hushed tone and he just nods. Putting Belle’s shoes under his arm, Liam reaches up to place his hand on the curve connecting Killian’s neck and shoulder. “I love you, Killian.”

“I love you, too, Liam.”

With a soft smile, Liam leaves and Killian looks to the couch where Emma lies. He has to move her, she always complains of her shoulders aching when she sleeps on the couch, but part of him doesn’t want to. If she awakes, he’s afraid she’ll tell him to leave, because even though Liam assured him the conversation was nothing of the sort, he still worries it might have spooked her.

Walking to the couch, he crouches down and gently takes her into his arms. Warmth washes over him as she cuddles closer to his chest and he presses a kiss to her forehead, but just as he lays her down on her bed, a low moan passes her lips and she looks up at him.

“Hey,” she mumbles. “Everything okay?”

“Aye,” he swallows, the fear of her telling him to leave making his throat tight as she closes her eyes again. “Nothing to fret about.”

There’s a hum before she burrows herself into the blankets, and when he eventually lays down next to her, she doesn’t hesitate to wrap herself around him. Squashing his fear down, he kisses the tip of her nose and closes his eyes.

_I love you._

* * *

* * *

After three unanswered emails and five unanswered phone calls, Emma made the decision to fly to Pennsylvania and confront Rebecca Cobb herself. She would have driven, but Killian broke the news to her that he didn’t think her bug would make the journey.

_“You are aware of how old your car is, love, I’m not confident she’ll make the trip. Besides, you know how tired you get after a case. Why not fly there, this way I can take you and pick you up?”_

She went to argue, but then he gave her that damn pout of his and she relented. Besides, it was nice to have him take her to the airport and wait until she boarded.

Even if it did make it harder for her to say goodbye.

_“Did I lose you there, Swan?”_ Killian’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, just zoned out for a second.”

_“Ah, well, it’s nice to know that I bore you.”_

She brings her coffee to her lips and replies, “Extremely boring, I almost fell asleep.”

_“That’s not true or else I would have heard you snoring.”_

“I don’t snore!” She growls, making him chuckle.

_“Aye, love. I’m only jesting—oh, I’ve forgotten. I found your red leather jacket, it fell behind the chair in your room.”_

“Seriously? That’s awe—” Her eyes narrow. “Did you clean my room?”

_“You have your pleasures and I have mine.”_ Rolling her eyes, she looks up when a car drives by then ignores it when it doesn’t stop at the house across the street. _“Belle’s apartment building had a gas leak so she’s staying with us and I elected to give the couple some privacy.”_

A smile forms on her face because she knows what he really means is that he decided to sleep at her place because he missed her.

“Now you’re a gentleman?”

He scoffs. _“I’m always a gentleman, Swan. How goes the stakeout?”_

“Uneventful. According to her receptionist, she left the office for the day, so I’m waiting outside her house until she gets home.”

_“I wish I could wait with you,”_ he says sweetly.

She smiles. “You’d just distract me.”

There’s a pause before he responds with, _“Well, don’t be so irresistible, then.”_

Laughing, she jokes, “I’ll work on it.” Her eyes flicker up when she sees a Mercedes pull into the driveway. “Hey, she just pulled up, I have to run.”

_“Lo—let me know how it goes.”_

What he had started to say made her pause before she quickly recovers.

“Uh, y-yeah, I will.”

There’s a mumbled goodbye before they hang up and she spends more time than she cares to admit staring at her phone.

_He couldn’t have possibly…_

The sound of a car beeping makes her jump and when she looks up, she no longer sees Rebecca Cobb.

“Damn it,” she mumbles before tossing her phone down onto the passenger seat and jumping out of the rental car.

With every step, her stomach is fluttering and she can feel her hands start to shake.

_Fuck, she’s not your mother, get it together!_

After knocking on the door, she takes a step back and waits. Her stomach is fluttering like crazy, and when she catches her reflection in the glass she quickly yanks her beanie off, smoothing down her fly aways.

Subconsciously, she knows there is nothing for her to be nervous about, it’s not _her_ mother she’s meeting, but she can’t help it. It’s always like this when she reunites families.

Almost like she gets a small taste of how it would be if she were ever reunited with her own family.

The front door opens and Rebecca Cobb stands before her. She’s even more beautiful up close with her short brown hair, perfectly angled eyebrows and makeup that’s so natural, you can barely tell she’s wearing any.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi, are you Rebecca Cobb?”

The woman smiles with a nod, “Yes, that’s right.”

“My name is Emma Swan. I’m a private inv—”

Rebecca’s face falls and she looks back over her shoulder before saying, “I know who you are, Miss. Swan. What can I do for you?”

Slightly taken aback, Emma gives a nervous chuckle before reaching into her back pocket.

“Um, well, I was hired by—”

Rebecca cuts her off again, “I know who you were hired by.”

“So you received my e-mails?”

“Yes, but it’s apparent you can’t take a hint.” Opening and closing her mouth, Emma tilts her head in confusion. The woman huffs and rolls her eyes before stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. “He’s not here, is he?”

“Um, no, I’m a-alone.”

“Good,” Rebecca folds her arms over her chest. “Now I’ll ask you again, what can I do for you?”

Shaking her head, Emma takes the picture out of her pocket and holds it out before her.

“I was hired by Mr. Ro—”

Rebecca holds up her hand, cutting her off for a third time. “I don’t need to know his name, nor do I need to see a picture.”

The shock Emma feels slowly starts to morph into anger.

“I’m sorry, you do realize I’m speaking about the son you gave up for adoption, correct?”

The brunette’s face grows red as she growls, “Keep your voice down!” Emma blinks, unsure how to respond, and Rebecca swipes at a piece of hair that’s fallen in front of her face. “Do you make it a habit of showing up on strangers’ doorsteps uninvited?”

“Well, you weren’t answering my emails or calls…”

“And you didn’t get your answer from that?” She hisses, her eyes once again flickering back to the house. “I have no interest in meeting this person. If I did, I would have responded.”

There’s an overwhelming feeling of sickness that hits Emma. Not once has she experienced this type of interaction before. Nervousness? Of course. Hesitation? Without question. But to have complete lack of empathy or care to even know the person’s _name_ …

She suddenly remembers what it felt like when she found out she was left on the side of the road. The memory of knowing that her parents didn’t even care enough to drop her off at a hospital or police station—she shakes her head.  

“Mrs. Cobb, I understand your life is different now and that you may be nervous. But maybe you could just _talk_ to him? I’m sure you would feel differently.”

“I was sixteen at the time of the pregnancy, okay, and my parents forced me to have the child. I didn’t even know it was a boy until I received your email.” Emma’s mouth falls open and Rebecca takes a step closer. “There is a reason I made it a closed adoption, and I really wish you would respect my wishes.”

The coldness in her voice has Emma stunned into silence. It’s obvious she wants nothing to do with her client and has no interest in hearing about him, but the second she turns to walk back into her house, Emma finally finds the courage to speak.

“His name is James,” her voice wavers slightly and Rebecca stops. Hope fills her as she finds more courage to plead with the woman. “He just wants to know where he came from.”

Rebecca turns back to her, the same blank expression on her face.

“He came from the adoption agency he was dropped off at. Now please get off my property or I’ll be forced to call the police.”

Without another word, the woman turns to go back into her house, and the sound of the door slamming shut makes Emma jump.

* * *

Emma walks into her building in a fog; she barely remembers the cab ride back, her mind replaying what happened over and over.

She knows Killian is going to be upset that she didn’t tell him she was leaving, and even more upset that she took a cab instead of allowing him to pick her up, but she just needed to get home.

Adjusting the strap of her bag, she stops at Killian’s apartment and knocks. Normally she would walk in, but ever since the time she climbed through their window and found Liam and Belle making out on the couch, she’s made it a point to knock.

When there isn’t an answer, her brow furrows before she moves to go up to her apartment, only to be disappointed when she’s met with nothing but darkness.

“Killian?”

Silence.

Her bag drops to the floor and she tosses her keys off to the side. Walking into her room, she finds her bed made—he definitely slept there last night—and one of his t-shirts laying on top of the covers. She feels exhausted, physically and emotionally, and all she really wants to do is lay in Killian’s arms and have him tell her everything is going to be okay.

Logically, she knows that what Rebecca said wasn’t about _her_ , however, she can’t help but think…what if her birth parents felt the same way? What if they were met with the possibility to meet her, and they out right refused to even learn her name?

She’s a person, with feelings…a person _they_ made…

Why don’t they want her?

The phone rings five times before Killian eventually answers with the sound of music playing loudly in the background.

“’Ello, beautiful.”

“Hey, where are you?”

“The Rabbit Hole.” Her eyes close as she plops down onto her bed in disappointment. He did tell her he would be out with the guys for Robin’s bachelor party, but with everything that happened, she completely forgot. “Hang on, love, let me get somewhere quiet.”

“Okay.”

She listens to the voices in the background, questioning as to where he’s going before the music starts to fade to a low hum.

“Swan, you there?”

With a sigh, she nods, “I’m here. Sorry, I forgot about the bachelor party.”

“No need to apologize, love, you know I adore hearing from you.” There’s a breeze of happiness that passes over her. “How’s everything going with the case? Did you speak to Rebecca?”

Her eyes close again, the woman’s hurtful words once again invading her mind.

“Yeah,” she clears her throat. “Yeah, I did.”

“And? What happened?”

Her throat tightens and she finds herself fighting back tears again.

“Uh,” she reaches up to scratch her forehead. “It was…it was something. How’s the bachelor party?”

There’s the harsh sound of the wind blowing against the speaker before he says, “It’s going well. I won two hundred dollars at poker before we came out.”

She snorts and picks at her jeans. “I’m sure they all loved that.”

“Not as such,” he chuckles. “Though, I am using my winnings as a tab for our libations.”

“Well, that’s because you’re a good man.”

He hums and she pictures him smiling the way he always does when she gives me a genuine compliment.

“You seem vexed.” Her head drops. “What’s troubling you?”

_Of course he can read her, even through the phone._

Tears prick her eyes again and her chin quivers just slightly.

“I’m fine…just tired.”

It makes her heart ache to lie to him, but she doesn’t want to talk about what happened. It’s still too fresh. Even if he were with her she wouldn’t talk about it, she would just lay in his arms and most likely tell him tomorrow.

“Are you sure you’re alright, love?”’

She has to get off the phone, because if they talk any longer she’s going to tell him everything in that second.

“Yes, don’t worry about me, okay? Have fun with the guys.”

He pauses before answering.

“Alright…I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Her eyes close again, her chest aching. He’s going to be so upset when he finds out she’s lied, but she knows if she tells him that she’s home he’ll leave the party to come be with her, and she doesn’t want that. He deserves to have fun with his friends and not have to worry about leaving somewhere early just to deal with her being upset.

Making a mental note to set an alarm so she can surprise him with a wakeup call, she nods, “Tomorrow.”

She hangs up before he can say anything else and her stomach turns. She wants him there because just having him around makes everything better, but she refuses to be _that_ girlfriend.

Her phone beeps and she shakes her head. She’s spent years making herself feel better and dealing with the demons from her past by herself, she can do it for one night. Looking down at the phone, she lets out a breath when she sees it’s a message from Killian, and just as she’s about to swipe to read it, there’s a knock at her front door.

She looks up at her bedroom door then back down to her phone.

_No, he couldn’t have…_

A smile spreads across her face as she rushes out of the room. She doesn’t know how he figured it out, maybe someone saw her in the cab—it is a small town—but she doesn’t care. She’ll yell at him tomorrow for leaving the par—

Pulling open her front door, her heart stops and the smile drops from her face. With her hand tightening on the doorknob, she chokes out,

“Neal.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely April makes me look better than I actually am and Mandy is overflowing with talent, I may have to keep her on retainer for banner making!
> 
> Can you flipping believe Once is back tomorrow? Holy crow. I know that's all you guys care about. ;-p But just in case you're interested, here's Chapter 17. 
> 
> Double line breaks mean change of POV.

**Chapter Seventeen**

There are a million different scenarios Emma has imagined happening in the unlikely case she ever saw Neal Cassidy again—most of them ending with her punching him in the face after she gave him a swift kick to the nuts.

She’s thought about all the things she would say to him and how long it would take—five minutes and thirty-three seconds—without stopping.

She used to rehearse it in her head when she was younger. She’d yell and scream while Neal would attempt to get a word in, but she wouldn’t let him. Just like when he wouldn’t let her speak when she told him she was pregnant.

It was all planned…and now it’s shot to hell. Everything she’d imagined, all the words she’d practiced, were forgotten at the sight of him standing before her.

Her heart is pounding and the lump in her throat seems to be growing bigger with every second that passes.

“Not going to invite me in?”

His voice finally breaks her out of her thoughts, and when he takes a step forward her body snaps into action.

“No!” She barks, holding her hand up. “What the fuck are you _doing_ here?”

“That’s not very nice.”

Folding her arms across her chest, she stands her ground. “Neither is showing up at someone’s house uninvited, so I guess we’re both wrong.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Is this how you treat a friend that’s come to visit?” Her neck tightens and her stomach turns at his words. “I thought you’d be happy to see me. It’s been, what—”

“Ten years,” she finishes.

“Damn,” he chuckles again, scratching the back of his head. “Has it been that long?”

It takes all the strength she has not to punch him square in the face, but she’s an adult and can keep control of herself.

“What do you want, Neal?”

Her hands start to shake as her body fills with dread. There’s only one reason she can think of that would make him come back, and knowing she’s going to have to explain what hap—

“Where’s the boyfriend?”

She blinks.

“ _What_?”

Of all the things he could have asked, he asks about _Killian_?

She watches as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a newspaper. Snatching it from his outstretched hand, she rips the paper open. The headline reads ‘ **Halloween Ball Another Ghostly Success** ’ and underneath is a picture of her and Killian.

“You know,” Neal starts again, “He doesn’t really seem like your type.”

Clenching her jaw, she tosses the paper to the side and gives him a glare.

“Because you know me so well?” He doesn’t answer, the smirk on his face making her blood boil. “Is that why you’re here? To check up on my love life?”

He snorts. “Love life? So you’re in love with him?”

“Please explain to me how that’s _any_ of your fucking business.”

He folds his arms. “Ohhh,” he smiles, a glint in his eyes she just wants to punch. “Did I hit a nerve there?”

She ignores the comment. “How did you even know where I was?”

His eyes move over her face and she prepares herself once again for the question she knows is coming. She’s suddenly thrust back to the night she woke up to blood running down her legs and the worse cramps she’d ever felt. Her brow starts to sweat and she fights hard to control her breathing.

The last time she spoke of what happened was with Killian, and she very much doubts Neal is going to be as kind and caring as Killian was.

With a shrug, Neal shoves his hands into his front pockets and explains, “I didn’t. Was on the interstate when I got a busted tail light. I remembered that the town was around here and came to get my car fixed—” She sucks in a breath, her eyes flickering to the side as her mouth falls open. “—and imagine my surprise when I get to the local shop and see _you_ eating lunch and giggling with the mechanic. I don’t like him.”

Tears prick at the back of her eyes and for a moment she’s stunned into silence. Ten years they haven’t seen or spoken to each other, not since he left without a single word after she…

Shaking her head, she gives a snort.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have zero say in what I do with my life. You can leave now.”

“You used to listen to what I had to say.”

“I also used to wear chunky Skechers because I thought they were stylish,” she answers dryly. “I’ve grown. Now I’m not going to ask you again to leave.”

He tilts his head and her fingers tighten around her phone, making it dig into her palm, before he sighs.

“I’m on my way to Phoenix to pick up something I stashed there and I seem to have run into a bit of a bind—I need cash.”

Her eyes widen. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Just a couple hundred to get me to there.” Her mouth falls open and she shakes her head in disbelief as he adds, “It would help a lot.”

She snaps back at his words. He wants help... _help_.

Where was her _help_ when she found out she was pregnant? Where was her _help_ when she was too scared to tell her adoptive mother? Where was her _help_ when he left her alone?

With a watery chuckle, she shakes her head.

“Get the fuck out of my building.”

She slams the door before he can respond and leans her forehead against the wood. Her breathing is erratic, and she’s just barely able to hear anything over the sound of the blood pulsing loudly in her ears.

He didn’t come back for her, he didn’t come back to ask what happened to the baby…he didn’t come back at all. It was by accident that he found her. He had come into town because of car trouble and just so happened to stumble across her—but to ask for _money_?

“Take some time, Em. I’ll be around for the rest of the weekend.”

The sound of his voice jolts her back to reality. Her hands are shaking again, the anger just about bubbling, and with a frustrated cry, she yanks her arm back and tosses her phone at the door.

* * *

Around three in the morning, Emma hears a noise coming from her front door and her senses are on high alert. It’s not like she was sleeping, after Neal left her adrenaline had her body almost vibrating and she couldn’t sleep even if she wanted.

She gasps at the sound of her door handle jiggling, and quickly grabs the baseball bat from out of the closet in the hall. Her heart is pounding and for the first time since moving to Storybrooke, she’s terrified of who is at her front door—especially at three in the morning.

Keeping her steps quiet, she tightens her fingers around the bat, lifting it slightly just as she hears,

“Bloody hell.”

A large breath passes her lips and her entire body sags, relief flooding her as she puts the bat down and quickly rips the door open to—

_Holy fuck, he’s drunk._

Killian lifts his head, his brow furrowed and eyes squinted before they widen.

“Swan?”

“Hi…”

He blinks twice and she’s just about to ask him if he’s alright when he shakes his head slightly, “Am I dreaming?”

A breathless chuckle passes her lips and she steps forward.

“No, I’m here.” She takes him by the hand. “I came back earl—oh!” He stumbles and she has to reach out to keep him from falling.

His head falls into her hair and he murmurs, “You smell bloody amazing.”

“And you smell like a bar,” she wraps her arm around his waist. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he slurs, his face still in her hair. “Are you certain I’m not dreaming?”

Her lips tug up into a small smile as she kicks the door shut behind them.

“Dream about me often?”

He stops them in the middle of her living room, his hands moving to cup her face as his glassy eyes move over hers.

“Every single night.” Her breath hitches. There’s a truth in his eyes that makes her feel warm and safe. Before she can respond, he leans in and presses his lips to hers. He tastes like beer and her eyes burn with tears. “Most certainly not dreaming,” he mumbles against her lips. “Gods, I’ve missed you.”

Without thinking, she buries her face into his neck, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing her eyes shut. He’s swaying slightly and the stale smell of beer still fills her senses, but being in his arms makes everything better.

“I missed you, too,” she whispers, her voice catching.

He continues to sway and she has to step back to hold him up right.

“Okay,” she breathes before pulling back. “I’m going to get you a glass of water.”

“What? For drinking?” He giggles and shakes his head, “I don’t want any bloody water.” His lips move to her neck. “You on the other hand…”

Patting the back of his head, she pulls his face up and gives a forced smile.

“Why don’t you lay down…”

His glassy eyes connect with hers for a moment before he leans forward and fuses his lips with hers again, this time more forcefully. She lets out a slight gasp, allowing him to drunkenly slip his tongue into her mouth while his left hand cups her face.

“Mm, Killian—”

“Bloody hell,” he groans against her lips. “I love the way you say my name.”

Pulling back just enough to look into his eyes, she places her hand on his face and whispers, “Baby, I need you to lay down, okay?”

With his brow furrowed, he asks in a slur, “What’s wrong?”

Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t know where to start. First, there’s Rebecca Cobb who made her feel like a lost little girl again, then Neal Cassidy showed up, making her remember what it felt like to be unwanted and unloved. In the span of ten hours, she’s been on an emotional rollercoaster and she’s finally with the one person that makes her feel better…and he’s wasted.

“Nothing,” she answers with forced smile. “Tired. Let’s go to bed.”

* * *

* * *

The dull ache in Killian’s head is what first stirs him awake. The second is the unfavorable taste of leftover beer on his tongue—honestly, why he doesn’t just stick to rum, he’ll never know. Rolling over with a groan, he opens his eyes, not at all shocked to find himself in Emma’s room. It makes him feel closer to her when she’s gone, surrounding himself with her scent. His eyes flicker over to the clock on the cable box and he gives another groan.

If he wants to get his day started, he must get out of bed. He’s mildly surprised to find himself stripped down to his boxer briefs and not fully dressed, but the end of the night is somewhat of a blur. With a shake of his head to rid himself of the small headache, he opens her middle draw where he knows she hides the clothes she’s stolen from him and pulls out a pair of sweats.

Scratching his chest, he moves to the bathroom to brush his teeth. It’s just as he’s finished that he hears a noise from the other room and his eyes widen. The end of the night is a bit foggy—he blames Will and his insistence on shots of that blasted tequila—but he suddenly remembers coming back to the flat and rushes out of the bathroom to find his love standing at the island in her kitchen.

For a moment, he’s stunned into silence at her beauty. There are times it’s still unbelievable to him that she’s in his life, that he’s lucky enough to have such an amazing woman by his side. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve her, but he intends to repeat it once he finds out.

“Swan.” He has her in his arms before she can respond and the warmth of her skin makes him realize just how much he’s missed her.

She tenses before pulling away and his brow furrows.

“Everything alright, love?” Her lips press together tightly as she nods, her eyes flickering to the ground with her obvious lie and he steps forward. “Are you sure?”

“My phone is broken, I have to get a new one.”

Stepping forward, he picks the phone up off the counter and takes notice to the crack down the screen and scratches all around it.

“What happened?”

“It broke.”

“I can see that,” he answers with a wince before placing the phone back down. “Did you drop it?”

“I put your clothes in the washer.” Her subject change is another telling sign that there is something vexing her. “They smelled like tequila.”

A chuckle bubbles in his throat as he reaches up to scratch at the back of his ear.

“Aye, that would be Robin’s last shot. I’m afraid it was too much for the old bean to handle.” She gives another forced smile and he steps forward. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She swipes a piece of hair away from her face and takes a sip of her coffee.

“Fine, just tired.”

He’s hit with a wave of guilt.

“I didn’t keep you up, did I? You could have knocked my arse onto the floor, I probably wouldn’t have known the difference.” His attempt at a joke fails and she moves away from his touch again. “Are you cross with me?”

With a sigh, she looks back up at him, her face still completely blank.

“Why would I be angry with you?”

“I…I’m not sure, that’s why I’m asking.” When she doesn’t answer again he runs his hand through his hair. “I admit I don’t remember much of the end of the night, but if there was something I did…”

“You mean besides showing up at my door at three in the morning completely wasted?”

His shoulders sag and he moves to stand next to her.

“Love, I didn’t know you were here,” she turns toward him with a sigh. “You weren’t supposed to be back until today.”

“Yeah, well, I came back last night.”

She attempts to walk away and he catches her by the elbow.

“Why didn’t you tell me last night you were coming back early?” He asks, softly, his thumb brushing the inside of her elbow. “I would have picked you up from the airport.”

“I took a cab, it was fine.”

“When did you get in?” Her gaze flickers away from his again and he sucks in a breath. “You were here when we spoke last night, weren’t you?” She at least has the decency to look ashamed and he curses under his breath. “So you _lied_ to me?”

“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you I was home.”

“It’s the same thing, Emma.”

“So what!” She huffs, moving away from him once again. “There’s no rule that states I have to tell you every single move I make.”

He blinks and his mouth falls open.

“Rules?” He shakes his head. “No, Emma, there are no rules, but it would be nice of you to not keep these things from me, especially when I mentioned about seeing you today!”

Her face is hard and her eyes are dark when she looks up at him. “This is who I am, Killian. This is who I’ve _always_ been,” she spits out. “My plans are constantly changing, I’m always on the move, and I come and go at random times. If you don’t like it, there’s the fucking door!”

Shock washes over him and he takes a step back. They’ve argued before, have had their disagreements and have said things they didn’t mean, but this…

Emma has never once told him to walk if he was unhappy.

He looks her over, and it’s then he notices the bags under her eyes and the light that usually shines within them is dim.

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?”

She sighs and shakes her head, “Just leave, Killian.”

His eyes widen and a spout of fear runs through him.

“ _What_? Why?!”

“Because I didn’t get any sleep last night, I have to go out and buy a new phone since mine isn’t turning on, and because I need some _fucking_ space.”

He wants to argue, to demand she tell him what’s really bothering her, to holler that she may trample all over him as much as she wishes but it doesn’t stop him from being able to read her, but he doesn’t do any of it.

Instead, he stomps back into her room to gather his belongings and walks out after mumbling,

“As you wish.”

* * *

* * *

In all the time Emma has lived in Storybrooke, not once has she ever felt scared or felt the need to look over her shoulder. Sure, the people could be a little nosey—when she got her tattoo, a little flower on her wrist, everyone decided it was their responsibility to comment whether they liked it or not—but they were safe, and she knew they only had her best interests at heart.

Now it’s different. Now, Neal Cassidy is walking around town, and she feels anything but safe. All she can think about is Neal telling her he saw her when she didn’t even know it—it has her looking around every corner.

When she’s coming out from getting a new phone, she’s so busy checking the streets for suspicious cars that she bumps right into Tiana, spilling coffee onto her pretty green dress.

She apologizes and is just about to offer to pay for the dry cleaning when a person across the street catches her eye. He has his hood up over his head and he ducks around the corner before Emma can see his face.

“Uh, I have to run.” Emma starts to follow and calls over her shoulder, “I’m sorry again!”

A car almost hits her, but she keeps pushing forward until she finds the person walking down the street. If Neal really thinks he can follow her around town and she’s not going to notice, he’s got another thing coming.

“Hey!” She calls out, but he doesn’t turn and she runs faster, her feet almost slipping on the wet snow. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Grabbing him by the shoulder, she yanks him back and shoves him against the brick wall.

“If you think you can just—” She stops mid-sentence, taking a step back with her eyes going wide. It’s not Neal...it’s that kid Felix that David has arrested a couple times for petty theft. “You’re—”

“What the hell!” He cries out, shoving her away. “What’s your problem?!”

“Sorry,” she shakes her head, attempting to rid herself of the dark thoughts. “I thought you were someone else.”

Felix pushes himself away from the wall and Emma has to lean back to avoid getting hit.

“You’re insane, anyone ever tell you that!” He growls before running off.

Her eyes close briefly as she curses under her breath. Neal has gotten under her skin and she hates it. She’s twenty-eight years old, has become a strong, independent woman, but he’s making her feel like a pregnant seventeen-year-old all over again.

She looks up at the sound of her name to find Archie waving from across the street. Forcing a smile, she lifts her hand in response before moving back to her car.

It’s been years since she’s felt so lost...so alone.

Her instincts are telling her to run, to start her car and leave town for a little while—Neal won’t stay in Storybrooke forever—and not look back.

But she can’t...her brother will freak out, Mary Margaret and Liam will call her non-stop, and Killian…

She drops her head back with a sigh and slams her fist down onto the center console. Asshole doesn’t _begin_ to describe what she was when he woke up and she really has no reasoning for it. It’s true that she didn’t sleep at all the night before, but it had nothing to do with the fact that he was drunk.

Dealing with her drunk boyfriend giggling like a child while she tried to undress him was a great distraction from the dark thoughts that were swimming through her head. He kept poking her stomach—

_“What are you doing?”_

_“Making sure you’re not a bloody hallucination.”_

—and kissing every spot he could—fingers, hips, elbow—it didn’t matter, and she loved every second of it.

Then he fell asleep and her demons came crawling back.

Without his giggles, she heard Rebecca’s words over and over in her ears, and when she attempted to close her eyes she saw Neal at her front door. She tried burying herself into her nook, pulling Killian closer, the warmth of his body making her feel safe, but it didn’t help.

It wasn’t until the sun started to leak through her windows that she decided to move, thinking that maybe if she kept her body busy, her mind would do the same. She started her laundry, cleaned her bathroom and dusted her living room.

That’s when she found the newspaper Neal brought and everything went downhill from there.

She’d snapped at Killian and kicked him out to keep from breaking down, when what she really wanted to do was run into his arms and forget everything.

The beeping from her phone makes her jump and she clears her throat. Her tears are threatening to spill again and she must keep them at bay.

Shaking her head slightly, she lifts her phone up and her breath hitches when she finds the text from Killian she never got to read the night before.

**Whatever is vexing you, love, try to remember it’s only temporary. As is your stay there. I miss you terribly and I’m counting the moments until I see you again. Sweet dreams, darling. – K**

She doesn’t realize a tear has escaped until it drops down onto the screen and chokes back her sob. She wants to call him...apologize for everything when she’s hit with a forgotten memory of a time when the kids at school made fun of her when she called David her brother and it really got to her.

_“I don’t know why you don’t listen to me,” Neal huffs in frustration as she wipes away her tears. “None of them matter. I mean, they are right—” Her brow furrows and she looks up at him. “—David_ isn’t _your brother, but who cares. You don’t need him anyway, you have me.”_

Two weeks later, he left.

Wiping her cheek, she throws her phone aside and starts her car. Even though it's against her better judgement, she has to talk about what happened and has to get it off her chest, because if she doesn't...it's just going to eat away at her.

* * *

* * *

There are a lot of things Killian has learned since he began his relationship with Emma Swan.

She prefers onion rings over fries, she can’t have hot chocolate without whipped cream and cinnamon, her favorite candy is milk duds, and she absolutely abhors apples. She loves horror movies even though she gets scared easily, and though she’ll be none too willing to admit it, she purrs like a kitten when he runs his fingers through her hair.

When she’s happy, she has a smile that can light up a room, but when she’s angry and refuses to talk, it’s best to give her space...even if it kills him.

He spent the first hour after leaving Emma beating himself up. Had he just gone to his own flat like Liam suggested...but then he wouldn’t have known she came back early.

Would she have come to him in the morning? Or would she have just waited until he phoned?

Groaning, he runs his hand through his hair and lets his head drop to the back of the couch, hating the fact that he’s questioning what she would have done. Of course she wouldn’t have let him go on thinking she was gone while he was just two floors away, he knows his Swan better than that—which is why he’s so confused as to why she wouldn’t tell him the truth when they were on the phone.

It’s clear something happened while she was on her case, he could tell by the tone of her voice the night before and the fear in her eyes she attempted to mask with anger. Though instead of speaking to him, she’d pushed him away.

And that hurt.

Pushing himself off the couch, he moves to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of rum he has stashed in the cabinet, craving the feel of the burn at the back of his throat. It’s half filled, and honestly, he can’t remember the last time he went for it outside of a social setting. Now, instead of drinking himself into a blackout state when he’s stressed or upset, he loses himself in the feel of Emma’s arms.

She’s become the new addiction he never wishes to be cured from.

“Killian?” His eyes snap up to find Belle standing just outside the kitchen, a look of worry clear on her face. “Is everything alright?”

Clearing his throat, his eyes move back down before he scratches the back of his ear.

“Aye,” he answers. “Apologies, I wasn’t aware anyone was awake.”

There’s a small smile on her face as she moves into the kitchen and motions to the bottle.

“Having an afternoon drink?”

He gives a nervous chuckle and shakes his head. “No. I was, uh, I was just—” Belle’s looking at him with such a soft expression that it makes him smile. “I thought it might help.”

Her brow furrows. “Help?”

He answers with a shrug and when she stays silent, he reaches up to rub his jaw and sighs.

“Emma and I had a quarrel.”

“Ah,” she answers with a nod as she sits on a stool. “I see.”

Rolling his eyes, he snatches the bottle and places it back in the cabinet. “Old habits.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

With a snort, he rests his elbows on the island and shrugs. “Talk about what, lass? Talk about how my girlfriend came back to town without telling me? Or—”

“Emma’s back?” Her voice is full of surprise before she shakes her head. “Sorry, continue.”

“She came back last night, and when I confronted her about not telling me this morning, she...well, she let whatever is bothering her take over and kicked me out.”

“Whatever is bothering her?”

“Aye,” he mutters, his jaw clenching at the memory. “I could tell last night when we spoke, but chose to let it go until I saw her. Although, it didn’t help that when I saw her I was pissed out of my bloody mind.”

He drops his head into his hands, regret crashing onto him like a tidal wave.

“Killian,” her voice is soft, but commanding. “I’ve known Emma for some time now, and she has always been one to shield herself away—”

“I know,” he groans into his hands before lifting his head. “I had just thought that perhaps we had gotten past this...that she trusted me.”

“I don’t believe this has anything to do with trust, Killian.” He scoffs and she continues, “What I was going to say is that she has always been one to shield herself away, but since she’s been with you, she’s changed.” He blinks as Belle smiles. “She’s more open about her feelings, more sociable, and anyone with eyes can see how happier she is.”

A rush of warmth burns his cheeks and he shakes his head slightly. Though he does believe Emma to be happy—the sparkle in her eyes gives it away—he sometimes fears he may not be enough, that he’s not yet become the man she deserves.

He tried to tell her once, in not so many words, and she simply rolled her eyes at him before giving his head a little shove.

Clearing his throat, he motions to the door.

“She wasn’t open earlier. There’s something clearly bothering her and instead of talking she tossed me out,” he huffs, resting both hands on the island.

“It takes a person ten times longer to put themselves back together than it does to fall apart, Killian. Have you considered that perhaps she’s holding onto the last strand keeping her together for fear she’d not be able to put herself back together?”

He shakes his head.

“She must know that I would help—”

“And you must know that Emma would never _ask_ for your help,” she interrupts. “She’d much rather push you away than burden you.”

Running his hands through his hair, he groans, “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Remind her that you are around,” Belle answers softly. “Whether it be with a simple phone call or perhaps sending David in your place. He is her brother, and if she’s not open to talking to you, she may be open to talking to him, which is nothing to take offense to. Sometimes it’s just easier with family.”

“That’s...brilliant, lass,” he smiles up at her. “If anyone can get her talking, it’s David. Thank you.”

Belle smiles and pats him on the arm.

“It was my pleasure,” she says, pushing herself off the stool. “Now, I was just about to order some lunch for when your brother awakes. Would you like anything?” Giving her a tight-lipped smile, he motions to his bedroom and she chuckles. “Right, sorry. Good luck!”

Pressing his lips to her cheek in a polite kiss, he rushes down the hall to his room and snatches his phone off the bed. There’s a stab of disappointment when her phone goes right to voicemail, then he remembers her phone being broken.

“Bullocks,” he curses before looking out his window only to find her car is missing.

His brow furrows because the snow has already started, and the thought of her driving around in it isn’t too appealing to him. He attempts to call her again—voicemail—before moving to get dressed. The station is just a short walk away and it’s best if he speaks to David in person about his concerns.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, Killian curls his shoulders in to ward off the cold and starts to walk a little faster. With the impending snow storm on the horizon, the wind chill feels like ice, and though he’s use to cold temperatures, it’s a bit much even for him.

Pulling the door open, he shakes the stiffness out of his shoulders and unzips his jacket. The station isn’t that large, so he calls out to his friend to let him know he’s entering to not catch him off guard.

“Dave?”

No response, though as he nears the back he hears his mate’s voice followed by a muffled noise. When he walks into the room, he’s shocked at what he sees.

David is standing in the middle of the station with a sobbing Emma in his arms.

His heart drops into his stomach and fear washes over him. His eyes connect with David’s and he steps forward, silently pleading with his mate to tell him what’s happened. Instead, David sighs before letting go of Emma and turning her toward Killian to pass her over. She doesn’t lift her head, doesn’t say a word, she simply buries her face into his neck and continues to sob.

“Love, what is it? What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer and his arms wrap around her as he presses his lips to the top of her head. He’s never seen her like this before; she’s only ever shed a few stray tears before slapping her armor back on.

When he attempts to pull back, her hold on him tightens and the knot in his stomach continues to grow.

“Emma,” he pleads, both hands going to the back of her head. “You’re scaring me.”

Her sobs start up again and his eyes fly over to her brother, who sighs and steps forward. Killian listens as David tells him what happened with Rebecca Cobb and his eyes close. He’s an idiot, a complete pillock...

Hearing what that woman said to Emma makes his blood run cold. Of course his love would have feelings over it and be reminded of how she was abandoned when she was a babe. He should have picked up on it when they spoke, he should have _known_.

“Bloody hell,” he breathes out, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Love, I’m...fuck...I’m so sorry.”

His eyes flicker up to find David staring at them. His brow is pulled together and the look on his face is of complete sorrow. Killian knows of David’s internal struggle when it comes to his sister, they’ve spent many a night having conversations about her, and how he wishes he could take away her pain.

_“You know,” David sighs, his eye glassy from the drink. “There aren’t many things I regret in my life.”_

_Killian gives a dry chuckle before taking a sip of his beer. “Be proud, not all of us can say that, mate.”_

_“B-but there’s one thing,” David slurs, sitting up and pointing to him with his bottle. “Do you want to know what it is?” Killian raises his eyebrow in question and a small smile appears on David’s face. “I regret that I didn’t find Emma sooner...that I missed all those years with my sister.”_

_“Dave…”_

_“Because she’s always been my sister...even before we met, she was still my sister.”_

“It’s not what happened with you, Emma,” David says softly to her. “Mom loved you and wanted you.”

Killian feels Emma’s lips move against his neck.

“What’s that, love?”

There’s a sniffle as she pulls back and mumbles, “It’s not just that.”

Looking to David, who shrugs, his gaze moves back to Emma as he reaches up to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“What else?”

He watches her take a deep breath before she requests that he and David take a step back. There’s nothing about the way she’s acting that makes him feel better and he doesn’t want to step back, he wants to hold her, but he does as she asks.

Moments pass as she wrings her hands in front of her, her tears slowed but not completely gone, and he’s just about to go to her when she finally speaks.

“Neal’s here.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before both Killian and David speak at the same time.

“What?”

“In Storybrooke?!”

Emma tucks a piece of hair behind her ear before wrapping her arms around herself, making Killian lose his battle at staying back.

“Emma,” he whispers, pulling her close and silently rejoicing when he feels her relax. “What do you mean Neal’s here?”

David approaches them and she takes a deep breath.

“Last night, after we got off the phone...there was a knock at the door,” she looks up at him with a small smile. “I thought it was you, that maybe you figured out I was home—” His eyes close briefly and he curses under his breath. “—but it was Neal.”

David growls, “How did he even know where to find you?”

“It was by accident,” she mumbles, pulling back to wipe at her cheeks. “He was on the interstate when he remembered Storybrooke.”

There’s a snort from her brother and he begins to pace back and forth while Killian pulls her close again.

“What did he say, love?”

Her eyes move up to him. “He asked about you.” Killian raises his eyebrow and she nods. “He had the newspaper where our picture was on the front and he saw—”

“Are we so sure he didn’t know you were here before?” David interrupts, still pacing before them. “Maybe this was all a part of his plan.”

“No, he didn’t come here for me...trust me.” The last part is followed by a dark, humorless chuckle as she wipes at her face again. “I’m pretty sure if he didn’t need the money he wouldn’t have even approached me.”

Killian and David once again speak at the same time.

“ _What_?”

“He asked you for fucking _money?_!”

They all jump slightly when the station phone rings and David gives a mumbled curse before he stalks off to get it. Looking back, Killian sees Emma rolling her eyes at her wet sleeve and moves to get her a tissue.

“Thanks,” she mumbles.

Her shoulders are still stiff and her eyes flicker up to him with a flash of hesitance.

“Love…”

“I’m sorry about this morning,” she whispers, her gaze moving back down.

Shaking his head, he brushes her hair over her shoulder and presses a kiss to her temple. “It matters not, Emma. Let’s just—”

“It does.” She looks up at him, her eyes still somewhat glassy. “I took everything out on you when I should have just told you what happened.”

Leaning back against the desk, he folds his arms over his chest. “Why didn’t you?”

She sighs and gives a shrug.

“I was so stunned...what Rebecca said—I couldn’t think.” She runs her hand through her hair. “I just wanted to get home and see you, but I completely forgot about the bachelor party.”

“I would have come home to you.”

With a groan, she moves next to him and nods. “I know and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want you to have to miss a night out because of what happened.” He starts to shake his head but she doesn’t allow him to speak. “You can’t say that even if I had told you I was home and that I wanted you to stay out, you would have.”

She’s right, of course. He would have left the moment she told him, and if she insisted he stayed, he would have for a short while before bailing out early.

“Aye, but—”

“But I should have told you, I know. I was going to, not that it much matters now. I had an alarm set for early in the morning to wake you...then Neal showed up and everything just escalated.”

Her head is still down, and though her tears have stopped, her body is still filled with tension. Lifting his arm, he motions for her to move closer and smiles when she wraps herself around him. The feel of her warmth puts him at ease, and he wishes for nothing more than to take away all her pain.

“Everything just became too much,” she continues in a whisper. “With what happened with Rebecca, then Neal, and our fight,” she takes a deep breath, “I came here and the second I saw David I just broke down. I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have to hold it in, love. I’m glad you came to speak with your brother.”

There’s a pause before she mumbles, “I should have spoken to you, though, instead of lying and snapping. I’m sorry.”

He’s silent for a moment as he rests his lips on the top of her head. He understands why she didn’t tell him she was home, even loves her a little bit more for it, still, he feels a twinge in his heart that he couldn’t be there for her.

“Forgiven,” he mumbles, his arm tightening around her shoulder. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“He just...showed up.” She gives a watery chuckle and shakes her head. “You know, he didn’t ask about the baby...didn’t even bring it up.”

Killian clenches his jaw, anger once again bubbling up inside of him. How a man could be so cowardice as to leave the woman— _girl_ , Emma was a girl then—that was carrying his child is unimaginable to him, but also for him to not even ask? Neal Cassidy is the lowest form of scum he’s ever heard of.

“Because he’s a piece of shit,” David growls, walking back up to them with a piece of paper in his hand. “I got this a couple weeks ago.” He hands her the bulletin he stashed away in his desk and Emma gasps. “Didn’t think he would actually come here, though.”

Killian watches as Emma looks at the paper, her face giving nothing away before she hands it back to him.

“He said he had to get his car—” She stops and her eyes snap up to Killian. “That’s where he saw me, having lunch with you at the shop...he was getting his car fixed.”

His lips part and he reaches forward to take the paper from David. The second his gaze lands on the picture, it all falls into place.

“Bloody hell.” There was a reason Malcolm looked familiar to him, and it’s because “Malcolm” is Neal. “He came into the shop Wednesday for a busted tail light, said his name was Malcolm. We had to order it, he was none too pleased to hear that it wouldn’t be in until Monday.”

Emma nods. “He did say he would be around for the rest of the weekend.”

David’s eyes go wide. “Do we know where he’s staying?”

“Aye, spoke of getting a room at Granny’s,” Killian explains as David rushes back to his desk and picks up the phone.

Emma pushes herself forward to follow.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s a warrant out for his arrest, all I have to do is pick him up and hold him and they’ll come get him.” He dials a number before cradling the phone on his shoulder. “We just have to make sure he’s still there—Hey, Ruby, it’s David.”

Killian places his hand on the small of Emma’s back while David speaks into the phone.

“Are you alright, love?”

She blinks, turning to him with her brow furrowed.

“I-I don’t know. I mean...those things listed there are pretty serious…”

“Aye. We should have told you.” She tilts her head and he nods. “I was here when the fax came through. We thought it would be best to keep it from you...to spare you any unwanted pain.”

For what seems like a long while, she doesn’t say anything. She simply stares before her gaze moves to over his shoulder.

“It’s okay.”

“It is?”

When she looks back to him, there’s a hint of a smile on her face.

“I would have done the same thing.”

Letting out a breath of relief, he pulls her in for a hug, and in that moment, everything is how it should be.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my A-Cakes for editing this and my lover Mandy for making the wonderful banner<3
> 
> This is one of my favorites, I really hope you guys like it!
> 
> Double line break means change of POV :D

**Chapter Eighteen**

Usually when the first snow starts to fall, Emma is out with her camera taking pictures of the beautiful whiteness all around town—Regina has even hung some of her photos at Town Hall—but now, she’s watching it from inside the police station, not knowing when she’ll get the chance to go out.

David has been on the phone for the last hour calling in on Neal’s warrant while she explained everything that happened to Killian, and though it hurt to rehash it all, it also felt somewhat… _good_. He listened without interruption, held her when she started to cry again and spoke with no hint of judgement.

He really is one of the best people she’s ever met.

Letting out a deep sigh, she turns to walk back but stops when she finds Killian leaning against the wall just outside the office.

“Hey,” he looks up at the sound of her voice, “you okay?”

His jaw ticks before he gives a tight-lipped smile.

“Aye, just waiting for you.” She raises her eyebrow, letting him know she’s aware of his lie, and he sighs. “I couldn’t listen to your brother’s phone call anymore. It was…too much.”

She tilts her head. “Too much?”

Reaching up to scratch his jaw, he huffs, “Let’s just say hearing of the other things that coward has done is doing nothing to quell my rage for him.”

Her gaze moves down as she kicks at something on the floor. For a moment he doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t blame him because she can’t help but feel this is all her fault. If she had never told Neal about Storybrooke when they were younger, he would have never stopped to get his tail light fixed, and if she hadn’t been there to have lunch, he would have never seen her.

Her thoughts are interrupted when he reaches forward to curl his finger through her belt loop and pulls her forward. She rests her hands on his chest, smiling at the feel of his warm breath on her face.

“Are you certain you want to do this, Emma?”

Killian’s voice is laced with concern and it makes her feel safe.

“No,” she snorts. “I don’t want to see him ever again, all I want to do is go back to our place and curl up on the couch to watch a movie. But we can’t let him get away, and he’s not going to leave that room for anyone but me.” She sighs, fiddling with the charms on his necklace. “He deserves to go to prison for what he’s done.”

“He deserves a lot more than that,” he growls and she looks up at him. “Your brother says they won’t be able to come get him until tomorrow, possibly even Monday due to the snow.”

Her eyes widen. “What happens then?”

“He’ll have to stay here until they come for him. I plan on making sure all roads leading into Storybrooke are nice and clear tonight.”

She smiles. “Are you guys still going out to plow?”

“As far as I know,” he answers, his hands softly rubbing her back. “Liam is home sleeping in order to stay up tonight.”

Burying her face in her nook, she murmurs against his neck, “Will you come over after?”

His tone is full of surprise, “It’ll be late, love.”

“I don’t care.”

He presses a light kiss to her temple and answers, softly, “As you wish.”

She stays there for a moment longer, enjoying the calm that washes over her whenever she’s in his arms before she finally lifts her head.

“Come on,” she steps back, pulling him with her. “Let’s get this over with.”

They walk back into the office to find David checking the chamber of his gun and Emma’s eyes go wide.

“A gun…really? Is that necessary?”

“I’m the Sheriff, Emma,” he answers while checking the safety, “and he’s a wanted felon, I would do this for anyone.”

“As you should.”

They all look back at the new voice and Emma groans.

“You called Liam?”

David rolls his eyes as he adjusts his holster. “I need someone with eyes on the inside, Em, and we can’t use Killian.”

“Why the bloody hell not?” Killian growls. “If you think I’m just going to sit back and—”

“He knows what you look like,” David interrupts, “and he knows me. The only way we’re going to be able to have someone out in the open is to have it be someone he doesn’t know, and that’s Liam.”

Killian’s jaw clenches as he steps back and loops his thumb through his belt. Emma moves to say something when Liam speaks.

“He’s clearing been watching you, little brother. It’s best you stay away as well.”

“Younger,” Killian hisses. “And he’s done nothing but stop by the shop. He’s not concerned with me.”

Again, she opens her mouth, but David cuts her off, “How do you think he knew it was okay to go to her last night? He knew you weren’t there.”

Killian’s jaw clenches, but he stays silent.

Liam runs his hand through his hair. “Damn coward has most likely been watching the building for days waiting for her to come home. Do you think he’ll come to the building if she calls?”

Emma sighs. “I thou—”

“No,” David starts in again. “He might get suspicious. It’ll be better if she’s actually there when she calls and tells him to come down to the diner, because it’ll be on what he considers his turf.”

“I understand that,” Liam nods. “But if she calls him and says—”

“Okay,” Emma snaps. “That’s enough. _She_ is right here, and _she_ is a fucking adult who can take care of herself! I can’t call him, he’s going to know something is up. I’m going there and knocking on his door, then we’ll go down to the diner.” David steps forward but she raises her hand. “This is how it’s going to happen, so either you’re with me, or you’re not.”

The three of them stay silent and she nods. “Good, now this is how it’s going to lay out.”

* * *

Neal’s staying in room number eight at the Inn and it takes longer than Emma cares to admit to find the courage to knock. Just before she does, her eyes flicker to the room just next to it where David is waiting.

The plan is simple. He waits in the empty room in case Neal tries anything in the hall. If he doesn’t, David will follow them down toward the diner until he’s in a public place and open for arrest.

But if there’s one thing Emma knows about Neal Cassidy, it’s that nothing is ever simple.

There’s movement behind the door before it swings open and she once again has to physically restrain herself from punching him square in the face. The look he gives at seeing her is one of surprise before it quickly morphs into a smirk.

_Bastard_.

“Well, this is sooner than I expected.”

She raises her eyebrow. “Is it?”

He gives a shrug and leans against the frame. “I thought you would at least wait until Killian was—”

“Don’t say his name,” she growls, her fists clenching when he chuckles.

“I thought you would at least wait until _he_ was back to work. What’s the matter, he hungover? He did seem pretty drunk last night.”

_So he has been following Killian around._

The knot in her stomach tightens, and she swears if she listened closely, she could hear David cursing from the other room.

“We need to talk.” He steps back and motions inside and she gives a dry chuckle. “No fucking way. We either go downstairs or we don’t do this at all.”

He folds his arms across his chest and raises his brow. “So your boyfriend can ambush me? You really think I’m that stupid?”

Clenching her jaw, she takes a step back. “Killian isn’t here, and if you want this—” She rips the cash out of her back pocket and holds it up. “—you’ll come talk wherever I say.”

He eyes her for a moment, and she’s half surprised her hand isn’t shaking. Not from fear, no, from anger. The rage coursing through her is almost overwhelming, and it’s taking everything she has not to fly forward.

“Alright,” he finally answers. “Give me five minutes.”

“You have three.”

She doesn’t bother to wait for a response before turning and heading down the hall. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she almost trips on the last step before catching herself at the last second. Her eyes flicker to the end of the hall where she sees Liam sitting at the counter reading a newspaper. She’s supposed to take Neal into the diner where there are people around, but she stops. There are things she wants to say to him, and she knows she’s not going to be able to say those things if she goes in there.

Without giving it much thought, she pushes herself out the back door, leaving it open for Neal to follow and takes a deep breath.

The tables are completely covered in snow, and though the walkway has been shoveled and salt has been laid, it’s still slippery and lightly covered. She tugs at her beanie to cover her ears from the cold and wonders where Killian is, because there’s no _way_ he stayed at the station—his jaw ticking when he agreed to stay behind told her he was lying. He’s probably around front, figuring he could look on through the windows, she guesses.

Either way, he’s around somewhere, she can feel him.

Two minutes later, Neal comes strolling out and she watches as he looks around before closing the door behind him. There isn’t anyone outside or on the streets due to the storm and she’s somewhat grateful, the less people that see this, the better.

He smirks and stuffs his hands into his coat. “Out in the cold, really? I have a perfectly good room upstairs.”

She ignores the comment about Killian and shakes her head. “Like I would ever want to be locked alone in a room with you.”

He gives a shrug. “There used to be a time where all you wanted was to be locked away in a room with me.” Bile rises in the back of her throat as he continues, “It’s not like your new boyfriend would know since I’m sure you haven’t told him.”

“Let me make something perfectly clear,” she spits, “You want to talk to me? Fine. But you leave Killian out of this. Don’t speak about him, don’t even say his name, got it?”

With another chuckle, he shakes his head. “I can’t know about an old friend?”

Stepping forward, she growls, “You’re _not_ an old friend. You’re an asshole I wish I never crossed paths with.”

Neal lets out a full belly laugh. “It seems you’ve forgotten about the time we spent together, Emma.”

From the corner of her eye she sees David through the window walk toward the diner, and she knows it’s only a matter of minutes before he realizes what she’s done.

“I remember _everything_ ,” she hisses. “I remember being naïve enough to believe that you actually cared for me. I remember all the shit you put me through whenever I got a new friend that you didn’t approve of, I remember you making me feel like I was nothing unless you were by my side, and I remember you leaving in the middle of the night without so much as a fucking word when things got too hard for you.”

His face goes hard as he leans forward.

“And I remember a scared little orphan that would listen to anyone that whispered sweet nothings into her ear. Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were getting into, Emma. All you were looking for was someone to make you feel better, and I did that.”

“What you _did_ was take advantage of a teenager that was just looking for her place in the world,” she pokes him in the chest. “What you _did_ was tear down a girl to boost your own sick ego.” Her voice is filled with disgust and she shakes her head. “You made a mistake coming here, Neal, and an even bigger mistake approaching me.”

“You think I wanted to?” He snorts. “If I had known then how much shit you would put me through, I would have never gone near you.” Her fist clenches and he laughs again. “You can act good and proper all you want, Em, but I know you.”

Her body starts to shake and she steps back. “You’re wrong, you don’t know me.”

“You think this is your home here?” His voice drips with amusement and she takes another step back. “You think you’ve found your place in the world?”

Clenching her jaw, she glares at him and repeats, “You’re _wrong_.”

“You’re a street rat, Emma, just like me. Things like that don’t change.” She turns to walk away and he calls out to her, “And if you think your precious Killian won’t—”

The first thing she notices is the sting on her knuckles followed by the pained grunt that Neal gives. The next is her own voice growling, “I told you not to say his fucking name!”

There’s the sound of footsteps crunching on the snow from behind them as Neal spits onto the ground, bright red covering white snow before he laughs, “You think you changed. You’re _nothing_.”

She leaps forward, her anger carrying her to hit him again when a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her back.

“I am not nothing!” She yells, her body flailing as she attempts to go after him again but is held back. “I was never nothing!”

“It’s alright, love,” Killian whispers into her ear just as David and Liam come barreling out the back door.

Neal stumbles back with a laugh, almost slipping on the snow but David catches him before he can fall.

Rolling his eyes, Neal huffs, “David.”

“Hey, asshole,” David answers, propping him up on his feet.

“Really,” Neal chuckles, looking between the three men. “What are you going to do? Take me in the back and rough me up?”

Killian lifts her right hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles before muttering, “I believe Emma has already done that.”

Though her heart is pounding in her chest and her body is still shaking from the adrenaline rush, she gives a small smirk at his words.

“Neal Cassidy,” her brother starts as he takes the handcuffs out of his back pocket. “You are under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—”

Neal groans, and Emma takes a small pleasure as David shoves him against the building to handcuff him.

“You’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me,” he growls. “You can’t do this.”

“Actually,” David starts, twisting him back around and showing him his badge, “I can. There are some people in Phoenix that are really excited to meet you.”

She stays silent throughout most of the exchange, just concentrating on the feel of Killian’s arms to keep her grounded.

“You’re really going to do this to me, Emma?” Neal growls. “After everything I _did_ for you?”

Killian’s arm tightens around her waist and his whispers, “Ignore him, love.”

“I was there for you when no one else was!” He yells out, ignoring David’s growl to keep quiet. “You had _no one_!”

“I had Ruth and I had David!” Emma growls, moving forward but is stopped again by Killian. “ _You_ were the one that had no one…and you never will!”

Neal’s top lip lifts into a sneer as David and Liam push him forward toward the squad car. Her and Killian stay behind and she rolls her eyes when her brother ‘accidentally’ bumps his head before shoving him into the back seat.

“You were supposed to stay in the diner, Swan.”

Her gaze moves back to Killian to find him examining her knuckles. With her adrenaline finally down, they are starting to throb, but she finds the pain somewhat satisfying…rewarding even.

“And you were supposed to stay at the station,” she answers. “How did you know?”

He places another kiss to her knuckles before lifting his head to look into her eyes. For a moment he doesn’t say anything, he simply stares as reaches up to cup her face.

With his thumb brushing over her bottom lip, his whispers, “Because _I_ know you.”

There’s a shiver that runs through her body and she’s not sure if it’s from the freezing wind or the look of pure devotion in his eyes, but she’s suddenly hit with the memory of her and Liam’s conversation from last week.

_“Have either of you thought of the repercussions of this? What happens if the two of you don’t work out?”_

_Taking a deep breath, she places her hands on her hips and speaks softly, “Yes,_ dad _, we have.”_

_“Truly?” He inquires and her jaw clenches._

_“Liam,” she starts, trying to reign in her anger. “This isn’t something that we just…jumped into—”_

_“Isn’t it?” He asks, cutting her off. “If it wasn’t, why wouldn’t you tell us right away?”_

_“Oh my god!” She growls. “We’ve been together since the end of June!” He blinks. “We wanted to make sure that it was real before telling everyone, and it is,” she nods with a smile, “it’s real, Liam.”_

_“Do you love him?”_

_Her eyes widen and she gasps, “What?”_

_“Do you? Because he’s been taken with you since the moment you two met, and I know my brother. I just…” He trails off, running his hand through his hair with a sigh before looking back up at her with his eyes pleading. “I need to know he’s not going to get hurt again. So, I’ll ask again…do you love him?”_

_She’s silent for a moment, trying to process what he’s asking her. Fear has kept her from asking herself that exact question because loving someone makes you vulnerable, but she can’t ignore it any more. Not with Liam standing before her, forcing her to face it._

_With her heart pounding in her chest, she swallows the lump in her throat and answers in a whisper, “Yeah…I do.”_

“Killian,” she breathes, her tongue poking out to wet her dry lips. “I wanted—there’s something that I…uh, I w-wanted to tell you…”

When she trails off, he asks in a whisper, “Tell me what?”

They are on the tip of her tongue, she’s screaming them in her head over and over, but when she tries to speak them out loud, her throat closes up and she’s hit with the cold hard stab of fear. Fear that if she finally says them, it’ll make it all real and everything will change.

And change isn’t always a good thing.

“That…I…” His lips pull into a smile and his eyebrow raises before he gives an encouraging nod. “That I want to thank you for knowing me so well and…just…for being here.”

She thinks she might see his eyes dim slightly before his smile widens.

“Where else would I be?”

His words make her insides melt and she can’t help but lean her forehead against his, enjoying the moment alone with the man she loves.

* * *

* * *

“Come on you bloody wanker,” Killian growls as the shifter for the plow sticks once again.

It’s just after three in the morning, and though the snow stopped around midnight, he, Liam and David have been plowing for hours because in a place such as Storybrooke, a foot of snow could shut the entire town down.

Giving the shifter a hard shove, he grunts in satisfaction when it finally gives way and he’s able to start moving again.

He makes a mental note to look over each truck when he has down time at work so the next time they are hit with snow, it may run a little smoother.

The crackle of the walkie-talkie fills the cab of the truck and Killian reaches forward to turn the radio down.

_“Breaker one nine, breaker one nine,”_ David’s voice echoes in a horrid southern accent. _“All side streets are now clear, I repeat side streets are now clear, over.”_

Killian chuckles, down shifting the plow before picking up the walkie-talkie, giving an equally horrid accent.

“Read you loud and clear, Sheriff Charming. The northern quadrant is clear, as well, over.”

The gears grind together as he shifts the plow up and reverses away from the snow pile, giving a small sigh of relief when it sticks firm.

_“I say that’s a big ten four, Captain Guyliner, over,”_ David answers.

He snorts, nearly choking on his coffee at the nickname his mate has come up with due to his Halloween costume.

There’s another crackle before his brother speaks, _“You both are completely immature, do you know that?”_

_“I’m sorry, you’re supposed to say ‘over’ when you finish talking, over.”_

Smirking, Killian eyes the parking lot of the market and decides to give it one more sweep before heading back.

_“Are you serious?”_

_“Am I serious, what? Over.”_

_“I’m not bloody saying it.”_

With a chuckle, he holds the button and says, “Didn’t copy that, over.”

_“Not saying what? Over.”_

_“PISS OFF!”_ Liam laughs and Killian almost spills his coffee into his lap.

“Piss off, what? Did you piss off of something, brother? Over.”

David barks out a laugh, asking Liam what’s he pissed on and Killian can’t help but snicker. They’ve spent the better part of the last hour teasing his brother because messing with Liam is always a good way to pass the time. Especially when said brother tries to run plowing like he’s running a ship.

There were maps and everything.

_“That’s enough, children,”_ Liam breaks through. _“Meet you two at the station?”_

They both answer in agreement and Killian starts to head back. There’s something beautiful about driving around late at night, when the entire town is asleep and no one is on the roads. Unlike the city where the shops keep their signs and lights lit all through the night for recognition, in Storybrooke, once they close, they shut everything off, the only lights coming from the lampposts on the streets.

When he first moved to Storybrooke, he spent many a night walking the streets, enjoying the quiet and allowing the stillness to sooth him when his thoughts were trying to drag him further into the darkness.

But now that is all behind him.

Parking outside of the station, he’s not surprised to see his brother already there, though he is surprised to see him waiting on the curb.

“Bullocks,” he curses under his breath.

When they went out earlier, it was decided they would leave the station untouched until the end due to the _guest_ that was inside.

_“You think he’ll get out?” Liam asks as they fill the truck with salt._

_David snorts._

_“No. It’s more to keep people from going in.” Killian blinks, looking at him with his brow furrowed and he pats him on the back. “My wife is a force of nature.”_

It’s just as he steps out of the truck that David pulls up, and he waits to walk forward where his brother is standing, an amused smirk on his face.

“Why is he looking at us like that?” David asks in a murmur.

“I don’t know, mate,” he answers, his eyebrow raised. “I don’t know at all.”

They move forward and watch as Liam stuffs his hands in his pockets, bouncing slightly on his feet.

“What’s with the face, brother?”

“It seems I’ve only brought one shovel and have forgotten the extra bag of salt at the shop,” he feigns sorrow. “Which means, one of you will have to shovel the walkway of the station while the other drives to the shop to pick up the salt. _I_ will be going home to my warm bed where a beautiful woman is waiting for me.” Liam walks forward and raises his hands to pat them both on the shoulder before he pushes through them. “Cheers, lads.”

For a moment, he and David just stare in shock. The bloody wanker planned the entire thing so they would get stuck with the last bit while he went home.

Killian and David move at the same time, their feet slipping as they attempt to push each other to get to the truck. Going to get the salt is the easiest option because in the time it would take to drive to the shop and back to the station, the walk way could be shoveled twice if need be.

“I’m going!” David grunts as Killian grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“No, you are not!” He gets the upper hand and is able to push forward, but just as he’s about to grab for the handle on the truck door, David tackles him to the ground. “Bloody hell!”

The two men wrestle around in the snow, each one of them laughing, though David picks up a handful of snow and smashes it down onto Killian’s head.

“Quiet!” He chuckles. “You’ll wake the people up!”

“There are no—ah,” Killian hisses as David’s elbow digs into his side. “There are no bloody people, we’re on Main Street!”

“I’m the—oof,” David coughs out when Killian’s arm hits his stomach. “I’m the Sheriff! I’m going!”

He’s just about to toss his mate forward when he feels something cold and wet fall down the front of his shirt, making him cry out. David laughs as he shuffles himself up before attempting to jog over to the truck. Grabbing a handful of snow, Killian throws it and laughs when it hits the back of David’s head.

“Tosser!”

“Make sure you put your back into it!” David calls over his shoulder.

He throws another snowball at the truck and shakes his head with a chuckle. Thankfully, the snow is still light and the walkway is only a couple feet wide, so he’s able to work fast. By the time he’s finished, his hands are just about frozen and his bladder is screaming at him for some release.

_“Have you both gone to the bathroom?” Liam inquires before they leave the shop. “We’ll be out for a long time and you’ll be unable to stop.”_

_Killian shakes his head._

_“We are grown men, Liam. Must you treat us like children?”_

_Before his brother can answer, David comes barreling in, pointing over his shoulder while laughing, “Did you see the dicks someone built in the snow down the street? They stuck twigs in the balls for the hair!”_

_Killian snorts out a laugh and tries to quickly cover it with a cough when Liam tilts his head, a blank look on his face._

Perhaps next time he’ll listen to his brother, though he won’t be telling him that.

Thumping his feet on the side of the building to get the excess snow off his boots, he pulls the beanie off his head and lets out a sigh. His body is aching and the exhaustion is finally catching up to him. He wishes for nothing more than to go crawl into bed and sleep for days. A small smile forms on his lips at the knowledge that Emma will be there waiting for him, most likely sleeping on her couch. It seems whenever he’s not there with her to go to bed, she always falls asleep on the couch, almost as if she doesn’t want to go to bed without him.

It’s one of the many things he loves about her.

Unzipping his coat, Killian tells himself to keep his eyes forward as he walks back toward the bathroom. It’s hard to navigate without the light, but he’s determined to keep his presence unknown. When he’s finished, the warm water feels almost like needles stabbing his cold skin and it makes him even more anxious to find the warmth only Emma’s embrace can bring.

He exits the bathroom and though he knows he shouldn’t, his curiosity gets the better of him, and his eyes flicker toward the cell. He’s mildly surprised to see Neal sitting up, fully awake, and his jaw clenches.

The darkness inside of him creeps up as he realizes they are alone; he could say and do whatever he wanted—he could enact revenge in the name of the woman he loves—and no one would know.

It would be his word against Neal’s, and though he knows they would believe _him_ over the coward in the cell, he does nothing.

He’s not that man anymore.

Turning to head down to leave, he stops when Neal calls out to him.

“They put you on babysitting duty, huh?” His brain is screaming at him to keep moving, that Neal is just trying to get a reaction, but his body remains frozen. “Bit feminine, don’t you think?”

Clenching his jaw, he turns toward the cell and raises his eyebrow.

“Why don’t you keep your thoughts to yourself… _mate_.”

Neal smirks, pushing his arms through the bars. “You know, I watched you.”

Killian keeps his voice low and without any hint of emotion even though the anger is raging inside of him.

“Did you now?”

Neal looks him over, the light from atop of the cell illuminating his features. He looks tired—the dark circles under his eyes giving away the fact that he hasn’t slept yet—and the sight of his bottom lip slightly swollen, along with the bruising on his jaw, makes Killian smirk.

Emma really got him good.

“Can’t be making much on a mechanic’s salary,” he shrugs and Killian snorts.

“Worried about my finances, are you?”

Neal steps closer to the bars, his voice dropping down to a whisper, “What if I told you I could double your yearly intake with just one phone call?”

Deciding to have a bit of fun, Killian loops his thumb through his belt and presses his tongue to the side of his cheek.

“Is that so?”

“All you have to do is let me out of here.” Killian chuckles and shakes his head. “No one would know, you could say you came back to an empty cell—I’m pretty good at picking locks.”

“If you’re so good then why are you still here?” He snorts, amusement dripping from his voice and Neal’s face goes hard.

“Maybe I’m just biding my time.”

Killian gives another chuckle with a nod, “Right. Well, don’t allow me to interrupt.”

He turns to continue down the hall when Neal calls out to him again.

“You know, I’m not really a bad guy, despite what your girlfriend has told you.”

Feeling his hands twitch, he turns back and stomps toward him with a growl, “Don’t speak of her.”

Neal snickers and it makes Killian’s blood boil. He hates the fact that he’s shown anger but hearing him mention Emma is just too much for him to take.

“Did I hit a chord? It’s cute,” he nods while standing up fully, his fingers wrapping around the bars, “you trying to protect her.”

“Emma doesn’t need me to protect her, she does quite well on her own.” He motions toward him. “I’m sure your jaw can attest to that.”

He watches as Neal reaches up to rub his unjury.

“Yeah, well, she needs guidance, always has.”

Killian snorts.

“ _Guiding_ her? Is _that_ what you were doing?” He waves his hand in a smooth half circle. “Apologies, I mistook it for you running out on a young girl after you got her pregnant.”

Neal shakes his head and moves to lean back against the wall. “You’ve only heard her side of the story—”

“That’s the only side that matters.”

With a sadistic smirk, Neal shrugs, “You forget, I know her, too.”

“You knew the girl, I know the woman,” he growls. Neal scoffs as he looks away and Killian steps forward. “The woman who would do anything for those she loves because that’s who she is...the woman who I am proud and _lucky_ to have by my side every moment of _every_ day. She’s courageous and _strong_ …something you know _nothing_ about.”

The room falls silent, the only sound coming from the hum of the computers, and Killian feels the familiar sense of pride that washes over him when he thinks of Emma and all her accomplishments. She’s bloody brilliant, and though he’s not overly fond of sharing details with the likes of _him_ , it does bring Killian some pleasure to see the man—he hesitates to call him that—look to the ground, an unreadable expression on his face.

After a moment, Neal clears his throat and looks back up with what seems to be a forced grin.

“You can thank me for that. I was the one that told her she needed to get stronger.”

What surprises Killian the most is how he’s _not_ surprised at the fact that Neal would try and take credit for the woman Emma turned out to be. He is utterly and completely deplorable.

“You _actually_ believe that, don’t you? That _you’re_ the reason she’s so strong? Well, you’re wrong, she became strong all on her own, you had _nothing_ to do with it. You’re nothing but a footnote that’s barely worth mentioning.” Neal’s face hardens and Killian smirks. “Have a nice time in prison, Neal. I hear they are very accommodating to cowardice scum such as yourself.”

Without another word, Killian turns and walks out, not giving Neal a chance to respond. He’s wasted enough time listening to that pillock ramble on about—

He stops just as he rounds the corner when he finds David leaning back against the wall.

Killian blinks in surprise before he clears his throat and reaches up to scratch the back of his ear.

“Been there long?”

David folds his arms across his chest and Killian lets out a long sigh.

His mate was very clear about not speaking to Neal _at all_ while he was locked in his cell—something about possibly harming the case against him—and he’s just gone against his wishes because he allowed the coward to egg him on.

“Dave,” he starts, shaking his head slowly as he motions behind him. “I was—”

He holds up his hand and Killian’s mouth snaps shut. He should have kept walking, he should have ignored him. A stronger man would have. If he’s done something to prevent Neal from being arrested, he’ll never forgive himself.

David eyes him before he asks, “You really love her…don’t you?”

Taking a deep breath, Killian squares his shoulders and answers without hesitation, “I do.”

For what seems like hours but is merely moments, David doesn’t say a word. He simply stares before the right side of his lips tugs up and he motions toward the front of the station. “Let’s go home.”

Letting out a chuckle, he nods and walks forward, smiling when David pats him on the back.

“Aye, let’s go home.”

* * *

* * *

“Do they have guns at this convention?” Belle asks as she pulls herself up onto one of the stools at the island in Mary Margaret’s kitchen.

Emma snorts while cutting lemon. “It’s a Police Expo, I’m pretty sure they’re going to have some sort of guns.”

Mary Margaret reaches past her to grab the blender and says, “I’d be more worried about the money they’ll lose while gambling. David has a terrible poker face.”

Belle pops a tortilla chip in her mouth. “Do you think they’ll gamble?”

With another snort, Emma puts the cut-up lemons in a bowl and says, “That’s the only reason Killian wanted to go.”

David agreed over the summer to go to a Police Expo in Atlantic City, New Jersey, and when her boyfriend found out, he was all too willing to tag along because while her brother may have a terrible poker face, Killian is weirdly amazing and always seems to come out on top.

“My question is, why would they schedule an expo the weekend before Thanksgiving?” Mary Margaret shrugs, her hand resting on the cover of the blender. “That just doesn’t seem smart to me.”

The loud sound of the blender fills the room for a moment before Belle answers. “Just be glad it wasn’t next weekend. The Sunday after Thanksgiving is the busiest travel day of the year.”

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “If David would have agreed to go to an expo the weekend after Thanksgiving, I would be a widow right now.”

Belle’s eyes go wide as Emma breathes out a chuckle. “Who doesn’t love the talk of murder in a marriage?”

With a scoff, Mary Margaret pours some salt into a bowl and says, “If you don’t want to kill your significant other at least once a month, there’s something wrong in your relationship.”

Emma raises her eyebrow. “Once a month?”

“I was being nice.”

The three of them giggle as Belle pops another chip into her mouth.

“Perhaps that’s why Liam didn’t want to go at first.”

“Did you force him to go?” Mary Margaret laughs while taking three margarita glasses out of her top cabinet.

“I didn’t force him,” Belle insists, but the slight smirk on her lips tells Emma she isn’t exactly telling the truth. “I just suggested that he tag along because I thought it would be nice for all the men to go away together.” Mary Margaret places a margarita glass in front of her but she waves it off. “Plus, he’s been meaning to speak with Killian and now is as good a time as any.”

Emma’s brow furrows as she licks some salt off her finger. “What does he need to talk with Killian about?”

Belle’s eyes go slightly wide before she stutters, “Uh, well, he—”

The blender gets turned back on, cutting her off, and Emma watches as her shoulders sag in what seems to be relief. She wants to ask her about it again but decides against it. If Liam wanted others to know, he wouldn’t have waited until they were alone on a trip to say something.

Wiping her hands on a towel, she heads down the hall toward the bathroom. It's nice to have a night with just Belle and Mary Margaret, it's been so long since they've been able to get together, but she does miss Killian.

Since what happened with Neal, everything has gone pretty much back to normal. She could even make the argument that things between her and Killian have gotten better _because_ of it. She’s more open about telling him things—whether it’s something as little as her frustration over her broken camera, or her fear of becoming the new deputy—and he’s always there to listen and understand.

Even David has been more open to them; on more than one occasion he’s reigned his wife in, allowing her and Killian to have some private time, when in the beginning he used to just smirk and grin.

Her brother is strange.

It’s just as she’s washing her hands that her phone rings and her stomach does a flip. She hasn’t talked to Killian since that morning and she really does miss him.

“Hey, you.”

_“Hello, beautiful.”_

There’re loud noises in the background and she has to press the phone closer to her ear to be able to hear.

“Is this allowed? I thought there was a strict ‘guys only’ rule for today.”

He snorts.

_“I’ve caught them both texting earlier so they can shove off. Besides, I’m only calling to tell you that my phone is on its last leg. I’m taking it back up to the hotel room to plug it in, so if there’s something you need call Liam or your brother.”_

“That’s not like you, did you forget to charge it last night?”

She hears a muffled voice over what sounds like a loudspeaker and a cheer before he answers.

_“Using my camera—there are so many things here you would like, darling. I also took a three minute long video of your brother attempting to do this rock climbing wall. It’s bloody hilarious.”_

“You’re such a good friend,” she chuckles, leaning back against the sink. “Get any gambling done, yet?”

_“Some, but not much. We were going to go out before the expo this morning, but Liam wanted to have a chat.”_

“Yeah, Belle mentioned something about that. Is everything okay?”

_“Aye. Fantastic, actually. I’ll…el you…it…”_

Her brow furrows and she pulls her phone away to check the signal.

“Babe? You’re breaking up.”

_“Swan?”_ She hears him groan. _“Bloody convention center has no bloody fucking service.”_ There’s another string of curses that she hears only pieces of and lets out a breathless chuckle. _“I’ll...you when I…to the…plug…in.”_

Shaking her head, she speaks a little louder in hopes he’ll hear, “No, no, it’s fine. Go out with David and your brother. Call me tomorrow before you guys are heading back.”

There’s a sigh before he says, _“No, it’s…there in…minutes and—”_

“Baby, it’s fine! Plug your phone in and we’ll talk later.”

_“Bloody hell, my phone is going to die. I’ll call you when we get in tonight, aye?”_

“Yes! Go, have fun and be safe. I love you.”

Her eyes go wide and she opens her mouth to say… _anything_ when there’s a beeping sound. Pulling the phone away from her ear, she sees the call was disconnected and stares at it in shock. Her hands are shaking and her heart is pounding in her chest.

That didn’t just happen, there’s no _way_ she told Killian…

“Oh my god,” she mumbles before repeating it loudly. “ _Oh my god!”_

“Emma?” Mary Margaret’s voice echoes from the hall. “Is everything okay?”

Yanking open the door, she finds her sister-in-law and Belle standing before her, both with equal expressions of worry on their faces.

“Oh my god!” Emma pushes past them and walks into the living room. Her head is swimming and her body is shaking. She said it, she _fucking_ said it! And over the phone no less. She’s an idiot, a complete fucking idiot. “Oh my god!”

“Emma, sweetheart,” Belle starts. “You’ve said that multiple times and—"

“I just told Killian that I loved him!” Emma bursts out, cutting her off. The two women share a look of confusion before looking back to her with their heads tilted. “For the _first time_!”

“Over the phone?” Mary Margaret gasps and Belle lightly smacks her arm as Emma chokes out something between a laugh and a cry.

“Well, that’s okay,” Belle assures, her tone light and a small smile on her face. “What did he say?”

Emma wrings her hands in front of her as she continues to pace.

“I don’t know.”

Belle blinks, looking to Mary Margaret before back to her. “I’m sorry?”

“His, uh,” Emma scratches her forehead. “His phone was dying and the convention center it, uh, it had shitty reception, and we were getting off the phone and it just…it just… _came out_!” She waves her hands around, her eyes wide and her heart pounding. “And then the phone disconnected and now I don’t know if he heard me!”

“Oh, dear,” Belle whispers.

They are all silent for a moment before Emma rushes to the kitchen and snatches the tequila bottle, taking a large gulp as Mary Margaret and Belle follow.

“Maybe he didn’t hear you,” Mary Margaret offers.

Belle nods before saying, “Right. You did say that there was bad reception and that his phone died.”

Emma takes another gulp of the tequila.

“Or,” Mary Margaret interjects, “maybe he did and he’s going to call you as soon as he gets back to the room.”

With her eyes wide, she mumbles, “Which is worse?”

It’s a valid question, because honestly, Emma doesn’t know.

What if he didn’t hear her and she asks? Then he’ll pester her to know what she said.

Or, if he _did_ hear her and she asks, but he’s not ready and it just becomes weird.

No, she can’t ask.

But what if he _did_ hear her and she _doesn’t_ ask, he might think she regrets saying it and—

“Oh god,” she groans, interrupting Belle and Mary Margaret’s little conversation. “I can’t think about this anymore. It’s going to drive me fucking insane. Somebody talk about something else to distract me.” The two women look at her with their mouths hanging open and she slaps her hands on the island. “Anything, I’m begging you.”

A moment passes and she’s about to open her mouth to plead again when Belle speaks.

“I’m pregnant.”

Emma’s jaw drops and Mary Margaret gasps. For a quick second, a stab of jealousy runs through her because she knows Liam won’t abandon Belle the way Neal abandoned her, but she stomps it down.

Belle gives a nervous chuckle, “Will that help with a distraction?”

Mary Margaret squeals so loud, she almost breaks glass before she starts to bounce up and down, and for the rest of the night, she’s successfully distracted.

xxx

Emma’s jolted awake by her bed dipping and her arms shoot out.

“What the—”

The feel of fingers wrapping around her wrist alerts her until she hears an all too familiar husky voice whisper, “It’s just me, love.”

Blinking, it takes her eyes a second to adjust to the darkness. When they do, she finds Killian kneeling on the bed, hovering above her.

“Killian?” She lifts her head, looking at the clock on her cable box to see it’s a little after one in the morning. “Am I dreaming?”

Her head is still foggy from the alcohol she drank, so her dreaming he’s with her is completely plausible, but then he chuckles and shakes his head, “No, Emma. I’m here.”

“What’s wrong?” Fear starts to run through her because he’s not supposed to be back until Sunday afternoon. “What happened?”

She tries to sit up, but he stops her as he reaches forward to cup her jaw, his gaze moving to her lips.

“Nothing…my phone died…”

There’s a sudden flash of her slip-up earlier and she’s suddenly wide awake. Clearing her throat, she lays her head back down with a nod.

“Y-yeah you said—”

His fingers tighten on her face and he shakes his head. “So I had to come home to tell you something.”

Swallowing, she asks in a whisper, “W-what?”

His thumb brushes the apple of her cheek before he looks back up into her eyes.

“I love you, too.”


	19. Chapter Ninteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe I finished my second multi-chapter. This is so surreal and I just want to thank every single one of you that came along for the riide. You guys are amazing and I'm so lucky to have readers like you. <3
> 
> April, my A-cakes, thank you for editing the hell out of this story. You make me look good and I can't believe I'm with you, Jenna and Jess RIGHT NOW as this gets posted. EEEEEEEEEEE
> 
> Mandy, the beautiful banner you made, I can never thank you enough. I love you. <3
> 
> PS. I'M MEETING JEN AND COLIN THIS WEEKEND AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

**Chapter Nineteen**

Scraping the spatula under the pancake, Emma lifts it off the skillet and gives a small cry of triumph when she sees it’s not burned before placing it atop the stack on the plate. Killian has started to teach her how to cook, and though she still has a long ways to go, she finds she has a knack for making pancakes. Which is perfect because he volunteered them to make breakfast Christmas morning, and with it being only two weeks away, she now has more confidence about it.

If someone had told her last Christmas that her and her boyfriend would be cooking breakfast for their family and friends, she would have laughed until her sides hurt.

But now, said boyfriend is sleeping soundly in her room after a night of rigorous love making while she makes him breakfast in bed before they both have to leave for work.

_Oh, I have to remember to get my handcuffs from the headboard._

Looking to the living room to check the time, her eyes automatically move to the tree that stands next to her window, and she can’t help but smile.

_Emma walks into the shop to find Killian holding a flashlight up to the underside of a car that’s in the air. A rush of fear runs through her as she eyes the lift it’s on—she’s never been too fond of them—and pulls her gloves off._

_“Hey.”_

_His eyes light up when he sees her, and it makes her heart flutter._

_“Swan, this is a happy surprise.” He walks up and places a soft kiss to her lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”_

_“I just wanted to let you know that I’m going with David and Mary Margaret to pick out their Christmas tree.” She holds her keys out to him. “Want to bring my car home so we don’t have to take two?”_

_Taking the keys from her, he tosses them onto his box with a smile of thanks._

_“You’re going with them? Didn’t your brother tell me it’s a painful experience?”_

_“Yeah, it is,” she chuckles, scratching the top of her head before adjusting her beanie. “David always picks out a tree, but Mary Margaret refuses to consider it until we’ve seen all of them. Then we walk around for an hour while David pulls out about fifty more for her to examine until she ultimately chooses the first one.” A wistful smile appears on her face and she shrugs. “It’s painful, but hilarious and I love it.”_

_She looks up to find Killian staring at her, his head tilted and the right side of his lips tugged up. Rolling her eyes, she forces her cheeks not to tint and waves her gloves at him, making him give a slight laugh before he puts the light back up to the car._

_“Are you telling me I’m in for the same fate when we pick out yours?”_

_“Oh, I don’t get a tree.” He drops the flashlight to his side as his gaze moves back to her. “I mean, I never actually_ had _a Christmas tree until I moved in with Ruth and David, and even then it was fake. It wasn’t until we moved into the building that David started to get real ones. Plus we exchange gifts and spend Christmas at their place, so there really isn’t a point for me to have one, too. I have a little fake one that I put up.”_

_He gives a tight-lipped smile._

_“That’s nice, love.”_

_Just before he lifts his head to look under the car again, she sees his jaw tick and her brows furrow. She’s not sure why he’s lying, maybe he has something against fake trees. Though she’s not a big fan of them, either, after she’s done decorating hers, it’s actually pretty cute. Opening her mouth to explain that, she stops when there’s a beep from outside and decides to let it go._

_“That’s David,” she moves to give him another kiss, “I’ll see you when we get home.”_

_Two days later, Emma’s in her apartment hanging some decorations when she hears a loud bang from out in the hall. Walking to her front door, she opens it to look down the steps and her mouth falls open._

_“If you two would bloody lift it up high, we wouldn’t have this problem!” Liam growls._

_“We’re lifting, brother,” Killian huffs. “Dave, watch the branches!”_

_“I know how to carry a tree!”_

_“Then lift!”_

_David stops moving and glares. “You tell me to lift one more time, I’m going to shove this tree up your ass.”_

_“Will the two of you stop bickering and bloody move!”_

_Her eyes go wide and she has to move back against the wall as they reach the top so she doesn’t get hit. David kicks her door open further and moves into her apartment._

_“Where do you want this, Em?”_

_She blinks. “W-what?”_

_Walking in, she watches as the three men stop to look at her with question in their eyes._

_When she doesn’t move, Killian rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Hang on.”_

_He lets go of the tree, making the two men grunt at the extra weight and moves to her. His eyes are sparkling, his cheeks are red, and there’s a large smile on his face._

_“Where would you like it, love?”_

_“What is this?”_

_With a nervous chuckle, Killian pulls the beanie from his head before motioning with it._

_“It’s your Christmas tree.”_

_Her mouth once again falls opens as she looks to him, the tree, and back to him again._

_“Y-you…you got me a tree?”_

_His eyebrows lift, the smile still on his face as he nods._

_“You never had one before…and, well, everyone should experience a real Christmas tree at least once in their life.”_

_There are so many emotions running through her and tears pricking the back of her eyes, but all she can think is how much she fucking loves him. Stepping forward, she yanks him to her by the lapels of his jacket and—_

_“You can snog later,” Liam huffs, adjusting his hold. “Tell us where to put this, because it’s bloody heavy.”_

A small gasp leaves her lips at the feel of hands on her waist as Killian comes up behind her and nuzzles his nose against her temple.

His lips move to her ear and she bites her bottom lip as he whispers, “Something smells delicious.”

“It’s just from a box.”

She feels him smile against her skin before he purrs, “I’m not talking about the pancakes.”

Turning around, she yanks his head down to hers and fuses their lips together. She can feel the warmth of him through her robe, and her fingers spread against his bare back to bring him closer. They spent hours the night before exploring each other’s bodies—she has _very_ ticklish knees—and she still hasn’t had enough.

He chases her lips when she pulls back, and she can’t help but breathe out a small giggle. Gazing up at him, she finds his cheeks are flush and a large smile on his face. It’s the smile that used to be rare—the one that creases his cheeks and makes his eyes sparkle—that she now sees all the time.

Lightly massaging his shoulders, she presses her lips together and stares. It wasn’t long ago that she thought she would never have this, thinking that love was a weakness she didn’t need and being content with that. But this is her life now, with him—all night lovemaking followed by morning kisses that make her weak in the knees—and she loves it.

His smile falters slightly before he asks in a low voice, “What?”

Shaking her head, she gives a shrug.

“I’m just…happy.” His eyes light up again. “It still surprises me sometimes.”

“Aye, love. Me, too.”

When he leans back in, the kiss they share is softer than before—tender, full of love—but it quickly escalates as he wraps his arms around her. There was a plan—breakfast in bed before work—but now all she wants is him.

“To hell with the pancakes,” she mumbles against his lips before pushing him back against the table.

Her nails rake lightly down his arms as he unties the knot on her robe and yanks her tank top down to expose her breasts. She sucks in a breath at the feel of his fingers brushing over her pebbled nipples before his hands move down her body as she moves her legs to either side of him. With his hardness pressing against her core, she shrugs off her robe, letting it fall to the floor and moves to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

His hands find their way into her sleep shorts and he squeezes her ass, pulling her forward to rub against his cock with a groan. She pulls back with a gasp, closing her eyes as his lips move to her neck. His name falls from her lips in a breathless sigh and her hips jerk forward when he works his right hand around to her front. With his fingers softly caressing her entrance and his tongue licking at the swell of her breasts, she holds tight to his shoulders for fear she’ll collapse.

He’s teasing her—only inserting the tips of his fingers before taking them out to circle her clit—and though it makes her want to scream, it’s the most delicious torture she can think of. Swallowing, she feels him drag his nose up the expanse of her throat before he nips at her pulse point and pulls his hand from her shorts, making her whimper.

“I want you,” she pants, her heart pounding and her legs shaking.

He brushes his lips over hers, closing them around her lower one for just a moment before pulling back again. “Of that I am well aware, my darling,” he says, raising his fingers to his mouth and drawing one between his lips with a contented hum, keeping his gaze on hers while he sucks it clean of her arousal.

It’s one of the most erotic things she’s ever seen, and it’s just enough to push her to move.

“Bed.”

With a groan, he lifts her into his arms and walks them back to her bedroom. The faint taste of her juices is on his tongue, and it makes her shudder with need. She’s aching to have him inside of her, to feel her muscles stretch around him until they both reach their peak. Once they get to the bedroom, he places her on the ground and chuckles when she pushes him back until he falls to the bed with a bounce.

Pulling her shorts and underwear off, she watches as he shoves his pajama pants down before he gives a long stroke to his cock and licks his bottom lip.

“Feisty one, aren’t you?”

There’s a hum that passes her lips as she straddles his waist, lining herself up to take him in as she whispers, “And you love me for it.”

“Aye, I do.” He sighs softly when he’s fully inside of her and leans back to press his hips up. “There’s my good girl,” he murmurs. “So warm, don’t stop, take your pleasure.”

He squeezes her hip in encouragement and she begins to grind down, taking him as deep as she possibly can. Flexing her muscles around him, she smiles when he curses and moves her hands up to tangle in his hair. She circles her hips, feeling every inch of him touch her from the inside before forcing his head back to trace his lips with her tongue.

“Oh god, Killian,” she whimpers. “So good.”

“Perfect.” He leans in, sliding his tongue between her lips with a hum and thrusting up to meet her movements. He breaks the kiss to give a low moan against her mouth. “Just perfect.” Moving to her neck, he muffles himself against her skin as he kisses it.

Her head falls back with another whimpered cry and her fingers tighten in his hair. Tiny shocks of pleasure run through her entire body, and she starts to shake. With each brush of her clit against him, she feels the pressure start to bubble inside of her. Not wanting it to be over, she lifts her body until nothing but the tip of his cock is inside of her before she sinks back down, repeating the process over and over until his nails are digging into her skin.

“Emma,” he chokes out. “You— _fuck_ —I’m…gods above.”

He falls back to the bed and she bites her lip. He looks completely _ravished_ , and she knows it’s only a matter of moments before they both fall over the edge.

Moving her hands up his torso, she takes a moment to run her fingers through the soft hair on his chest while she swivels her hips in a half circle before leaning down to kiss him.

“Give it to me, love,” he groans against her lips, “Want to see you fall apart for me.”

The heat starts to rise in her stomach and with two final thrusts she’s falling over the edge. In the midst of her waves of pleasure, she feels him hold her still as he rolls his hips up before he lets out something between a cry and moan, finding his own bliss.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling her to his chest and she giggles.

“Such a way with words,” she murmurs against his neck.

He hums softly, looping his left arm around her and pulling her flush to his body as he moves them further up onto the bed. She lets out a small hiss as he slips from inside her. She should really go get cleaned up, but her body is pleasantly numb and she doesn’t feel like moving.

“I love you,” he purrs, raising his lips to her ear. “So bloody much.”

Her eyes close as a small smile appears on her face. It still amazes her that, just a short time ago, the mere _thought_ of those three words being spoken to her would’ve had her running for the hills, and now she longs for them.

Pressing her lips to the spot under his jaw, she mumbles, “I love you, too.”

His arms tighten around her and they lay there in silence. The feel of his fingers dragging up and down her back is soothing and her eyelids begin to droop. She wants nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms, but they both have to get to work.

That thought alone almost makes her groan.

Trying to stay awake, she thinks about what Killian told her the night before, how he overheard Liam and Belle talking about her lease being up at the end of February, and she bites her bottom lip. It would make sense for the couple to want to live together—they are going to have a child—but she worries about what it means for Killian. She highly doubts he’s going to want to live in an apartment with his brother, his brother’s girlfriend, and a newborn baby. He’s a grown man who is going to want his own space, and though she knows it won’t change anything, she doesn’t like it.

Having him close is amazing and wonderful, and she _loves_ waking up with him. She’s never been a morning person and somehow just having him there makes her one. Maybe he could—

No.

She stops that thought before it can even start. That would be ridiculous. They’ve only _just_ admitted their love for one another a few weeks prior and she’s thinking about asking him to move in?

_David and Mary Margaret moved in together after only a month_.

Her lips press together and she snuggles further into his neck. Just because it worked for David and Mary Margaret doesn’t mean it will work them…though he does spend every night with her—she can’t remember the last time he slept at his apartment—it doesn’t mean he’ll want to…

Moving her head back, she looks up at him. His face is relaxed and his breathing is soft; if she didn’t know any better, she would think he was sleeping.

“Killian?”

His eyebrows raise slightly in his perceived slumber. “Hmm?”

Her heart begins to beat wildly in her chest and she swallows the lump forming in her throat.

“So, I was thinking about what you said last night,” she begins, licking her suddenly dry lips. “Hypothetically, say Belle does move in…”

“Then I’d find my own place,” he answers, pulling her closer with a contented sigh, “allow the couple their privacy. It’s not as if I haven’t lived by myself before.”

_I knew it._

She begins to fiddle with the charms on his necklace and stares at the two little beauty marks on his neck, knowing that if she doesn’t speak up, she’ll lose the nerve.

“Or you could move in with me.” He stops rubbing her back, and when she looks up, she sees him staring down at her, an unreadable expression on his face. “Hypothetically,” she adds out of fear.

“Right,” he answers quickly, and she forces herself not to shake.

Silence falls between them and it takes about two seconds for her inner freak-out to begin. It’s too soon, they’ve only been together five months, who moves in with someone after only five months?

Killian clears his throat before his hand starts to move up and down her back again.

“Well, it would be logical…” Her heart skips a beat and a small smile tugs at her lips, seemingly growing larger when he gives her one in return before he shrugs, “Hypothetically, of course.”

Biting her bottom lip to hide her ridiculous grin, she nods, “Of course.”

He rolls over on top of her, making her giggle before attacking her neck with kisses.

* * *

“Okay,” Mary Margaret starts with a smile. “Christmas is in three days, so after school I’m going food shopping. Is there something specific anyone wants?”

Emma blinks as David, Liam and Killian all start to talk at the same time and shakes her head. Every time _anyone_ asks this question, it’s always met with them all speaking at once, and usually she’s shouting her requests right along with them, but her caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet.

“Nobody eats that garbage, Dave!” Killian argues from behind her while his fingers knead into her shoulders. “We always end up throwing half of it out!”

She flinches at the loudness of his voice—it’s too early—but smiles when he presses a kiss to the back of her head.

“Sorry, love.”

“We do not!” David argues as he makes his way over to the fridge. He pulls the door open and Emma has to hold back her snort when his face drops. “I had two left, who touched them!”

“They were bloody rotten,” Liam huffs. “And they smelled something awful.”

“Hun, I’ll just buy some more.”

“Make sure you buy enough. With the holiday coming up, I don’t want to run out.”

Rolling her eyes, Emma brings her coffee back up to her lips and mumbles, “I seriously doubt that will happen.”

“Mom used to make us turnips all the time!” David gasps. “Why are you acting like you don’t like them?”

“Mom made _you_ turnips all the time. I never ate them. In fact, I specifically asked you to keep that shit away from me.”

Killian snickers from behind her, his thumbs rubbing at an especially sore spot on her shoulder blade. She really needs to learn not to fall asleep on her couch, but Killian went out for a few drinks after work and it happened by accident.

“Would you mind terribly picking up some ginger?” Liam asks as he motions down toward his apartment. “It helps with her morning sickness.”

Mary Margaret nods, writing it down onto a pad.

“Oh,” she gasps, looking up at him. “Do you still need me to take her to her doctor’s appointment tomorrow?”

Liam’s jaw clenches. “Aye. The shipment should be on time, but just in case…”

“It’s no problem.” Mary Margaret smiles and turns to her. “You’re okay with cookie ingredients, right?”

Emma feels Killian’s hands stop and struggles not to look back at him before answering, “Um, actually, I could use more. So, if you could pick that up, it would great.”

Liam steps forward, his arms folded across his chest and his eyebrow raised.

“And why would you need more ingredients for cookies when I just picked some up for you on Sunday, darling?”

Killian’s hands slowly leave her shoulders as David moves next to Liam with his hands on his hips.

“I, uh,” she reaches up to scratch her forehead. “I just don’t want to r-run out.”

There’s a second of silence before it all turns to chaos. A small squeak passes her lips as Liam and David push past her while Killian runs up toward her apartment.

“Can you three, for _once,_ not act like children?” Mary Margaret hollers up to them, her fists clenched at her sides, but they ignore her.

“She made you cookies, didn’t she?!”

“I bloody knew I smelled them the other day!”

“They are all gone! Piss off, vultures!”

Belle walks up onto the landing, the smile on her face faltering when she sees it’s just Emma and Mary Margaret.

“Where are—”

There’s a bang followed by a few curses that comes from above and Emma briefly closes her eyes.

Pushing herself up, she quickly climbs the stairs with Belle and Mary Margaret behind her. The sound of shuffling and some grunts echo from her apartment, and by the time they reach her door, the three of them stop.

“Really?” Emma hisses at the same time Mary Margaret growls, “Honestly, you three!”

Killian is on the floor with David on his back while Liam sits on top of him as they struggle to grab the container that holds the last bit of cookies.

“You dick!” David growls, attempting to pull Killian’s arms back. “You know the rules! You’re supposed to share!”

“My girlfriend made them for me! And you—ah! Bloody hell, Liam, how much do you weigh?”

“Oh my god,” Mary Margaret cries out. “Someone is going to break something!”

Leaning against her doorframe, Emma folds her arms over her chest and mutters, “I don’t think they care.”

“Less than you!” Liam growls, his right hand moving to cover David’s mouth only for him to quickly yank it back. “Did you just lick me?! How _old_ are you?!”

“Old enough to kick your ass! Give me the damn cookies!”

There’s a small chuckle as Belle steps in between them, motioning to the men— _boys_ —before them.

“Can you believe these are the men we’ve chosen?”

A smile tugs at the corner of Emma’s lips before she looks to Mary Margaret when she hears a gasp.

“I just realized something.” Mary Margaret looks between them with a bright smile on her face, the men still wrestling in her living room. “One day we’re all going to be sisters!”

Emma snorts as she shakes her head. They’ve been sisters since she married her brother, but she’s not sure how Belle will—

Her eyes go wide and her head snaps over as she realizes what her dear sister-in-law is saying.

Belle and Mary Margaret look at her with small smiles and her mouth opens and closes a few times before her gaze flickers back over to the men. Killian’s stuffing a cookie into his mouth while Liam and David attempt to steal it from him and she smiles, because he may be a big kid, but he’s _her_ big kid.

Rolling her eyes, she feels her cheeks tint as she gives a small nod.

_Yeah, one day they will be._

* * *

* * *

“Where is it?”

Ripping open the box that’s packed in the corner of his room, Killian huffs when he doesn’t find the present and moves out into the hall to push Liam’s door open.

“Oh,” he stops when he finds Belle standing in the middle of the room, securing the bracelet on her wrist, “Apologies, lass. Is my brother around?”

“He’s already up at Mary Margaret and David’s.” He curses under his breath and she raises her eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“He was supposed to wrap Emma’s gift for me, and I don’t know where he put it.”

Belle gives a small smile before motioning back to his bedroom. “I wrapped it and put it in your closet.”

Rushing back into his room, he lets out a breath of relief when he finds the wrapped box on the top shelf and pulls it down.

“You do realize your brother’s wrapping skills are worse than a child’s? I walked in and he had half the wrapping paper ripped apart and thrown to the side.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head and places the gift on top of his dresser.

“Well, it’s not as if I could do it. Emma is like a child herself and has been conveniently _showing up_ unannounced in hopes to get a peek, and David is out. If Mary Margaret even gets a glimpse, you know everyone in the bloody town will hear about it.”

Belle giggles.

“She’s surprisingly very good when it comes to Christmas. I think it’s her love for the holiday and all.”

Picking up his waistcoat, he mumbles, “I’m not taking any bloody chances.”

She offers to wait for him, but he waves her off and begins to button himself up. He made a jest to Mary Margaret earlier while they were eating breakfast about staying in his pajamas all day, and for a moment he thought Mrs. Charming was going to jump across the table. Later in the afternoon, he received a text from her stating she picked out an outfit for him and that it was on his bed—dress slacks, a red button-down with a green tie and his waistcoat.

_At least she can put an outfit together._

“Hey there, handsome.”

Jumping at her voice, he turns to see Emma climbing through his bedroom window and chuckles.

“Bloody hell, love, you gave me half a fright.” He smiles when she pulls him close for a light kiss before taking his offered hand for help. “I thought we were meeting at your brother’s?”

There’s a breathless chuckle that passes her lips before she looks up at him, her eyes somewhat nervous. Tilting his head, he’s about to ask what’s wrong when she brings her left hand in between them to reveal a white box.

Pressing his lips together to suppress his grin, he asks, “What’s this?”

“A present.”

“I thought we already exchanged gifts.”

His eyes move over to the jersey hanging in his closet. Last month, he told Robin he’d play on the adult football team in the spring, and as her present to him, she had a jersey made. It’s white with the number ten and Jones etched onto the back, but his favorite part is that she got a matching one for herself.

Knowing she’ll be in the stands cheering him on and wearing a jersey with _his_ surname on the back—gods, if they hadn’t been with their family he’d have had her right there on the floor. When he told her that, she gave him a saucy smirk and his knees just about buckled.

What he didn’t tell her was that he planned to take the jersey to the tailor and have a swan sown onto the inside of the front so it lays over his heart.

“We did,” she starts softly. “This is just something small.”

With a light chuckle, he turns to grab the wrapped present off his dresser, and when he sees her mouth fall open, he shrugs.

“Just something small.”

She starts to squirm, her eyes moving from the present to his eyes, and it’s only a moment before she snatches it out of his hands and moves to sit on his bed.

“Open them together?”

Taking a seat next to her, he gives a nod. Though he wishes for nothing more than to see her reaction when she opens it, he knows of her hatred of being watched while opening gifts. It’s why he put the necklace on her neck while she was sleeping and why he gave her the new camera while everyone was distracted earlier that morning.

With his attention on the white box in his lap, he lifts the cover, almost snorting at the tissue paper he knows she stole from her sister-in-law, and moves it to the side. His heart seems to skip and he sucks in a breath.

It’s a black and white photo, one he hadn’t known she took. Her legs are crossed and his head is in her lap, but what makes him freeze is the focus on his hand—his _left_ hand—as his thumb brushes against the scar on her thigh. It’s the one she got after jumping a fence when she was young, and he’s completely in love with it.

The scar tissue makes her skin bubble up for about three inches and it’s jagged and beautiful. He’s become obsessed with it, more often than not he finds himself touching it. He’s even traced it with his tongue a few times.

The way she was able to capture the moment...his scars don’t look hideous, they look…beautiful.

Turning to thank her, he watches as her hands brush over the leather of the book, the words _Once Upon a Time_ indented on the cover in silver lettering. She looks up at him, and they are both silent for a moment before their lips fuse together.

He’s not sure which of them moves first, but the picture and book fall to the floor as she pulls him on top of her.

“The book—"

“That bloody picture—”

They both speak at once, their lips making their words mumbled and unintelligible, but he doesn’t care. Her hands are working on the buttons of his waistcoat while his pull her hips impossibly closer. He wants to feel her skin against his, wants to explore every inch of it, especially the scar on the inside of her thigh.

Killian lets out muffled grunt when he feels something smack the back of his shoulder seconds before he’s pulled up.

“That’s enough you two!” Liam’s rough voice breaks through. “It’s time to come upstairs.”

“Oi!” Killian cries out while Emma stares up at them, her lips slightly swollen and her eyes wide. “Liam, get the bloody hell out of here!”

There’s a growl that passes his lips as Liam pushes him back and Emma giggles.

“Now, now, little brother, don’t be cross. I was commissioned with coming to get you, and be grateful for that. David was on his way with an overly large candy cane that he thought would fit nicely up your derriere.”

“Younger,” he grumbles while fixing his waistcoat. “And we were just on our way up.” Emma leans back onto her elbows with an eyebrow raised. “Eventually.”

Liam nods, his face the picture of disbelief before he holds up his hand. “Two minutes.”

After his brother walks out, Killian turns back to Emma with an amused expression on his face. She pushes herself up onto her knees, and he smiles when she takes ahold of his tie and pulls him close.

“You should have let me get him that shirt we saw at the mall last week. It would have fit him perfectly.”

“I hardly think your sister-in-law would be too thrilled with my brother opening a shirt that had the word _cockblock_ printed on it Christmas morning.”

Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she tries to hold back her laugh while straightening his tie.

“Yeah, but his face would have been worth it.”

Shaking his head, he steps forward and presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Don’t fret, love. After next week, there will be no getting rid of me.”

His gaze flickers to the boxes in the corner and he can’t help but smile. When he first moved to Storybooke, he had nothing but a few bags that held mostly clothes. Now, he’s moving only two floors up and his belongings have doubled.

Her hands move to his waist as her head tilts and she pouts.

“Promise?”

Barely able to contain his smile, he presses his lips to hers for a soft kiss after answering, “Aye.”

* * *

Though he loathes to admit it, Killian finds himself getting into the holiday spirit. There’s Christmas music playing as the smell of cinnamon fills the air, he even allows Granny to pull him under the mistletoe for a kiss right before she leaves.

Something his girlfriend takes great amusement in.

He makes sure to greet every person that comes through the door, which seems to be the whole bloody town, and even tries his hand at a few games.

One thing he’s _not_ too fond of is his overly affectionate brother.

Liam Jones has always been sentimental, but ever since Killian told him of his plans to move in with Emma, it seems to have stepped up to a whole new level.

“Brother,” he starts with an amused chuckle. “If you attempt to put that bloody crown on my head one more time, I’m going to shove it down your throat.”

“Come now,” Liam argues. “Will you just put it on for a picture? Is that too much to ask?”

Giving a sigh, his eyes flicker over to Emma to see her watching them with a small smile as she takes a sip of her eggnog and his head drops.

“Fine, but I’m wearing the red one.”

He snatches the paper crown from Liam and places it on his head with a huff. He allows his girlfriend to take a few shots with her new camera, but when his brother pulls him in for a headlock, he ends it quickly.

“I’m sorry.” He looks up to see Mary Margaret approaching, her face scrunched together in a wince. “I was the one who picked up the crowns. I thought it would be nice for us to have some of your traditions, too.”

Pulling the crown from his head, he gives a slight bow with a wink. “Thank you, milady. It’s very kind of you, I’ve just never been one for the holiday.”

She tilts her head, a disbelieving smile on her lips before she nods. “Yeah, you know, I could really tell that this morning when you put that Christmas apron on while cooking breakfast.”

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear and chuckles. “Aye, well, Emma was rather persistent.”

Mary Margaret eyes him, a look on her face he can’t quite read, before she moves forward to pull him into her arms.

“Thank you, Killian.”

With his brow furrowed, he pulls back after a moment and asks, “What for?”

She gives him a small smile before motioning to the left where he finds Emma and Liam. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, and they are laughing at something unknown to him before Liam takes her hand and twirls her around. The bells on the antler headband she’s wearing jingle, and she throws her head back with a laugh.

“For Emma,” she answers, her eyes shining. “There’s always been this distance she’s kept herself at with everyone. Like she was worried about letting us in because she didn’t want to get hurt. But since you came here, she’s more open, more carefree…” He smiles down at his feet and she ducks her head to look at him. “And the same goes for you. I’m so incredibly happy you two found each other.”

Looking back over to Emma and his brother, he watches as the two begin to sing along with the TV and he chuckles.

“Me too, lass. Me too.”

She presses her lips to his cheek before they both head into the living room. When Emma spots him, she bounces over—his Swan is pleasantly buzzed—and wraps her arms around his neck.

“Going to serenade me, love?”

She smiles, her fingers tangling in his hair. “You know I don’t sing.”

His fingers brush down her back, the cotton of her white sweater soft under his fingertips, as his eyes move to her lips.

“Nonsense,” he mumbles, moving closer to kiss her, “You have a beautiful singing voice.”

Emma’s head snaps back. “You’ve heard me sing?”

“No.” He answers too quickly and her eyes narrow.

It’s one of his favorite things, to listen to Emma sing. She does it whenever she thinks no one is paying attention and it’s absolutely adorable.

“You’re lying.”

Biting his bottom lip, he shakes his head and says, “No, not at all. I just…I just really desperately need to kiss you.”

She lets out a squeak as he pulls her close and presses his mouth to hers. She tastes of eggnog and spiced rum and he bends her back. Her fingers tighten in his hair and she giggles against his lips before pulling back.

“Easy tiger, we’ve got company.” He nips at her bottom lip and feels her hands move to cup his face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Hmm,” he brushes his nose against hers, “Just distracting you from the fact that I’ve heard you sing… _multiple_ times.”

“Oh, you mean like how you tried to distract me from remembering that time you thought Liam and I were together?”

“And how about when you attempted to distract me from remembering the time you told David about us without me being present?”

His eyebrow lifts as she presses her lips together.

“Call it a truce?”

Giving a soft laugh, he nods, “Aye, love, it’s a deal.”

The way she smiles makes his knees almost buckle, and not for the first time that day he feels the need to pinch himself. Waking up with Emma that morning, knowing that his holiday was going to be spent with the beautiful woman in his arms…it was everything.

“Does anyone mind if I crack the window?” Belle calls out while Liam moves to open it before she’s done speaking. “It’s a little stuffy in here.”

Mary Margaret places her glass on the table as she walks forward. “Oh, do you want me to grab a fan? I have popsicles in the freezer just—”

She stops mid-sentence when something that sounds like an animal dying echoes from the outside and they all exchange glances.

Unconsciously pulling Emma closer, Killian’s voice drips with disgust, “What the bloody hell is that?”

Mary Margaret runs to the window and lets out a little squeal of excitement.

“It’s Leroy!”

She begins to climb out to the balcony and Killian’s eyebrow raises as Emma bounces on her feet.

“What’s that, now?”

“Leroy always walks home from the Rabbit Hole completely wasted and sings Christmas carols.” His eyes widen and Emma pulls him forward. “Come on, it’s a tradition!”

The balcony hardly fits the six of them, so Killian moves to sit on the stairs and looks out to find Leroy stumbling up the street singing _Jingle Bells_ —or what he believes to be Jingle Bells. He can’t be too sure, there are a lot hiccups and slurs.

“He must know that’s not singing,” Killian insists as Emma moves to sit on his knee. “It’s more like caterwauling.”

David laughs and motions out into the night with his beer bottle, “It’s the closest we’ll get to carolers.”

“Last year,” Liam starts with a laugh, “he had one of those megaphones. Regina nearly ran him over with her car. It was bloody hilarious.”

Belle shakes her head.

“He does love to antagonize that woman.”

“Leroy!” Mary Margaret shouts as she leans over the ledge, “Sing _Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer_!”

“I don’t take re—hiccup—quests, sister!”

“Aw, come on, Leroy,” David calls out. “It’s Christmas!”

The drunken man scoffs, and Killian’s eyes widen when the lot of them start to chant.

“Rudolph…Rudolph…Rudolph!”

Moving his lips to Emma’s ear, he mumbles, “Really, Swan?”

“It’s tradition.”

“Having a drunken dwarf holler from the streets is tradition?”

Her pout makes him relent and he nods before joining in the chant.

“Rudolph…Rudolph…Rudolph!”

“Alright, you pain in the ass, kids!” Leroy yells. “ _Rudolph the red nosed rei—hiccup—ndeer had a very shiny no—hiccup—se!”_

They all start cheering and Killian’s gaze moves to the people around him. Liam is holding Belle from behind with his face buried in her shoulder while Mary Margaret has herself wrapped around David’s side. It wasn’t too long ago he would look upon them with annoyance and a hint of longing. He believed he wasn’t worthy to know such intimacy, that he would be nothing more than a toy. Now, he has his nose buried in golden locks and his arms wrapped around a small waist as he tries to keep himself warm.

“Do you guys even _realize_ how different next year’s going to be?” Mary Margaret says as Leroy’s voice echoes into the night.

Killian’s eyebrow raises as Emma gives him a side look before they turn back to her sister-in-law.

“How’s that, my dear?” David inquires.

She gazes at all of them, a look of shock on her features before she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know, how about because there will be a _baby_ here with us? Next year it will be all about toys—”

“Didn’t we have toys today?” Killian interrupts.

David points to him. “You did _not_ win that nerf battle!”

“—and Christmas cartoons—”

Emma speaks next, “We watched _The Year Without a Santa Claus_ five times earlier.”

Mary Margaret glares for a moment before she continues, “And making sure it’s a true child’s Christmas—oh! Who’s going to dress up like Santa?”

Liam lifts his head from Belle’s shoulder and groans, “Bloody hell, you’re going to spoil our child, aren’t you?”

Belle giggles as she pats his forearm.

“Who said anything about being spoiled?” Mary Margaret argues. “It’s normal for someone to dress up like Santa for a child!”

“Hun, the baby will be only a few months old next Christmas,” David starts slowly.

She waves her hand at him with a scoff. “That doesn’t matter…a baby’s mind takes in everything they can, it’s better we start early with the memories! Which reminds me, it’ll probably be best if we buy triple of everything.”

They are all silent before Belle finally asks, “Um, why?”

“Well, for your place, for here, and for Emma and Killian’s place.”

Killian blinks. It’s the first time he’s heard the words spoken and it makes his heart flutter. Next week, the flat upstairs won’t be known as Emma’s place, but _theirs,_ and it’s still something he’s getting use to.

“Uh, okay, it’s freezing out here,” David chuckles, motioning to the window. “Let’s go back inside. _It’s a Wonderful Life_ is just about to start.”

Emma moves to stand while everyone climbs back in but Killian places his hand on her hip. “Wait just a moment, love.”

With her brows furrowed, she sits back down on his lap.

“Everything alright?”

“Aye, it’s just we don’t get to spend time out on the balcony much since the weather has changed, and I wish for a moment alone with you.”

“That’s because it’s freezing.”

He smirks. “I don’t know, I think I’m pretty hot.”

Her eyes roll as she answers dryly, “Surprised your big head even gets cold.”

Smiling down at her lap, he lifts her hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“What’s up with you? You’re acting strange.”

“Nothing, sweetheart.” She tilts her head, and he lets out a breathless chuckle before pulling her closer. “Just…taking everything in.”

“Yeah, Leroy’s singing can do that to people,” she giggles, and he presses his nose into her hair.

Silence falls between them and he feels a sense of calm wash over him. It’s strange, how one’s life can change completely in just a year’s time, even stranger when a person can look back on the last year and hardly believe it was their life.

On Christmas the year prior, Killian spent the entire day in his flat cleaning and cooking a large meal while he waited for Milah to show. It was understood that she would be with her husband during the day, then leave to spend the night with him, but when she still hadn’t shown by six, he began to worry and phoned her.

She never answered.

He spent the rest of the night alone, drinking himself into a blackout state as the food turned cold and he dodged phone calls from Liam, embarrassed over the fact that he told his brother not to come back for the holiday because he would be with Milah.

She broke things off with him three days later, and though at the time it seemed to be the end of everything, it was really the beginning of something that is so much more.

A soft hum bubbles in the back of his throat at the feel of Emma playing with the charms on his necklace. There’s a new one, a gift from Belle, that’s a perfect replica of the star cut out in the middle of the compass charm he bought Emma.

It’s his new favorite.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Emma mumbles when she feels him shiver after she brushes her hand against his skin. “Are my fingers cold?”

Lifting his head, his eyes search her face for a moment before he replies, “You’re completely unaware of your effect on me, aren’t you?” Her mouth opens and closes a few times before he gives a breathless chuckle, “Emma, do you not remember at all how things were when I first came here?”

“I remember you pissing me off a lot.”

He bites his lip. “I did love the way your cheeks would flush red with anger.” She gives a little pinch to his collarbone and he laughs. “Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy our banter?”

Her eyes roll as she wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“Nope.” He raises his eyebrow, and when she remains silent, he bounces his knee. “Alright, alright. Maybe I liked it a little.”

She giggles as he bounces her again and watches as she shakes her head.

“You were something else.” Her voice is low as she plays with the ring on his index finger.

“Was I?”

Her gaze moves up, and his heart seems to pick up at the look in her eyes.

“You were, and now you’re…,” she trails off before taking a deep breath, “You’re _everything_. I love you, Killian.”

The watery chuckle he lets out is one of relief as his fingers tangle in her hair, because no matter how many times he hears her say those words, they’ll never get old.

“I’ve been completely bewitched by you since the moment I first clapped eyes on you down in that library…”

“Killian,” she murmurs softly, “you don’t have to—”

“Shh, shh, shush, it’s my turn now.” She searches his face before nodding, and he reaches up to cup her face as his thumb brushes over her bottom lip. “I used to read the texts and listen to the stories Liam told me of you lot and feel jealous. You all became this perfect family, and I knew that I would do nothing but bring it down because darkness was all I knew. But I yearned for it, so I made the decision to move here, hoping that if I could perhaps fake feeling _something_ it would be enough.”

He locks his gaze with hers. “That was until I met you.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears and he continues. “You’ve guided me through the darkness and brought me back into the light. _You_ are the reason I’m on my way to becoming the man I’ve always wanted to be, a man worthy of being part of this little family we have, and I can’t ever thank you enough for that.”

His hand tightens on her face and he looks her straight in the eye.

“I love you, Emma Swan, more than you’ll ever know.”

A puff of air passes her lips as she rubs her hand across his face before moving it to his neck. His eyes close when she presses her forehead against his and he lets out a breath.

Words aren’t enough, he knows that, but they are all he has, and he can only hope she’ll accept them.

“I know a way you can thank me.”

He pulls back to look at her and watches as she sniffs and swipes under her eyes.

“Aye?”

Nodding, she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and adjusts herself in his lap before looking back at him.

“Kiss me.”

With his lips widening into a face-breaking smile, he gives a nod and does just as she asks after a mumbled,

“As you wish.”


End file.
